Clary Dixon: Deleted Scenes
by BewareTheWalkers
Summary: A series of one shots that are addition information, just didn't make it in, a different storyline, or a scene that took place between the seasons of my Clary Dixon fanfictions.
1. Merle's Dealer

**Season 1:**

 **Merle's Dealer**

"So, by the end of the trial," Andrea says, taking another drink of her beer. "I had found out that the husband actually was fucking the nanny."

"No!" Jacqui exclaims, and the rest of us chuckle at Andrea's story. We sit around a fish fry while Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and T-Dog are in Atlanta searching for Merle. Some of us tell stories from our lives and jobs before the start of all this, a way to escape everything for the night.

"Yeah," Andrea says, nodding. "I can't believe I _actually_ thought that he was innocent!"

"Shane, your turn," Carl says, grinning. "What do you have for us this time?"

"Oh, boy," Shane laughs, rubbing his hands together. "Alright, um, I don't think I've ever told this one."

"Alright, Walsh," I say, gesturing for him to start.

"It was a few years back. Rick and I got called in to help with a drug bust. It was our first one. We got there, and I don't think I've ever seen that many drugs. I mean, there was just about everything under the sun in there. Yeah, those guys weren't walkin' free."

"Dude, your story sucks," Amy deadpans.

I laugh, taking a swig of Shane's beer. "Let's not tell Daryl I'm drinkin'."

"That's mine," Shane says, taking his beer back. "And don't call my story shit. I was just getting started."

"Darlin', your drug bust is in the fuckin' little league compared to mine," I say.

Everyone turns to look at me, and Carl slowly asks, "You were part of... a drug bust?"

"Ha, no," I say. "And no, for the record, I never did any drugs, either. But Merle, we all know that son of a bitch is a crack head. And trust me, he is. Merle, he had this dealer. Janky white guy, a tweaker. Name's Jesse. It was maybe three months before the start of all this, and my brothers are at Jesse's house. They're all shit-faced, Merle's high. Ain't even noon yet. Merle, he starts talkin' shit 'bout this show they're watchin'. Jess, his ex-girlfriend had this kid that he just _loved._ Low and behold, it's this kid's favorite show. And Jesse never sees the kid, so you know, he felt bad. Punched Merle, knocked him on his ass."

"What'd Daryl do?" Morales asks.

"He punched Jesse. Just started hittin' him, hard. Jess pulled a gun, put it to Daryl's head and goes, 'I'm gonna kill you, bitch!' Then, Merle pulled a gun on Jesse."

The group gasps, intrigued now. "What happened?" Sophia asks, eyes wide.

"Jesse punches Daryl in the gut, he pukes. Merle and Jesse start laughin', forgot all 'bout it."

"Where were you?" Shane inquires.

"I was at my friend's. I met up with the boys later, found out what happened. I went to beat the hell outta Jesse, and Merle pulled a gun on him before Jesse could pull his on me. I thought Merle was gonna shoot him, kill him. So I put myself between Merle and Jesse."

"You were ready to die at your brother's hand for a tweaker that just threatened your other brother?" Andrea asked. "What the hell made you do that?"

"I don't know. I mean, I didn't want to get caught up in a murder, but it wasn't that. I punched Jesse, he drew his gun. Put it right here." I tap the space between my eyes. "I didn't flinch. Told him, 'Go ahead, bitch. It'll be the last thing you ever do.' Obviously, he didn't shoot, 'cause I'm still kickin'. Think I impressed him."

"Wait, so let me get this straight," Morales says. "This guy puts a gun to your head, your brother's head, and you tell him to go ahead and shoot you?"

"I knew he wasn't going to," I say with a shrug. "Jess had too much to lose to kill me."

"How much could he have had to lose?" Shane comments. "He was nothin' but a junkie."

"No, Jesse's more than that," I say, grinning now. "Jess, he had this empire back in Albuquerque. He sold the purest shit around. I mean, Blue Sky was nearly a hundred percent chemically pure crystal meth."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait," Shane rushes. " _Blue Sky?"_

"Yeah, why?"

"I've heard of that. Every PD, DEA, every agency across the U.S. has heard of it. Blue Sky's made by Heisenberg. And now you're telling me that you're buddy-buddy with the guy that sells it. You know Heisenberg?"

"No, I never met him," I say, shaking my head. "And Heisenberg's dead. Jesse told me when it happened. We, uh, we stayed in touch. Heisenberg died just a few days before the start."

"What exactly do you mean by 'stayed in touch?'" Dale inquires.

"Oh, uh, that." I scratch the back of my head, trying to figure out how to answer. "Well, um, I guess I can say it, since the world's gone to shit. Those laws don't really apply any more." I glance over at Shane. "I'm real glad you ain't with the DEA."

"You're a drug dealer," Shane says as it dawns on him.

"Hey," I object. "I ain't a drug dealer. One week, okay? It was just for a week. Jesse needed a hand, I needed money, and he trusts me. Jesse does more than trust me, he's gotta to let me keep more than he lets the others keep. He's a good guy. They kept five hundred, I got to keep one G. I made five Gs. I was saving it for a motorcycle when I turned seventeen. Guess that ain't happening now." Carl suddenly starts laughing, and we all look at him. "What's so funny, Grimes?"

"You," Carl laughs. "Every time I think I've finally figured you out, you surprise me again. Is there anything you haven't done?"

"Ooh, that _is_ a good question," I chuckle. "And I'm not going to answer that."

"That's just gonna make me wonder more."

"That's the plan, Grimes." I take Shane's beer again, and he sighs, grabbing a new beer as he relinquishes the rest of his to me. I take another drink as I wink at Carl. "That's the plan."


	2. Separation

**Season 1:**

 **Separation**

As the group that investigated the basement, Glenn, Rick, Shane, T-Dog, and Clary, entered Zone 5, Clary could hear Daryl interrogating Jenner about the lack of lights. "Rick?" Lori called, hearing the footsteps.

"Jenner, what's happening?" the leader asked.

"The building is shutting itself down, dropping all the nonessential uses of power. It's designed to keep the computers running to the last possible second. It started as we approached the half hour mark," Jenner said. He looked up at the clock, which was nearing thirty. "Right on schedule." Daryl took the bottle of vodka from Jenner's hands, spilling some on the floor. The doctor looked at them, then said, "It was the French. They lasted the longest, as far as I know. They stayed in the labs 'til the end. They thought they were close to the solution."

"What happened?" Jacqui asked.

"It's the same thing that's happening here, isn't it?" Clary realized. "Facility wide decontamination, whatever the hell that means."

"No power grid," Jenner said. "Ran out of juice. The world runs on fossil fuel. How stupid is that?"

"Clary," Daryl said, nudging her towards the door that led to their rooms. "Get your shit. I'm right behind you."

Shane started to go after Jenner, but Rick stopped him. He turned to his wife and son, telling them to go get their things. He told the same to the rest of the group, but the Dixons were already on it, pushing around the others and making their way towards the door. As Rick issued his orders, an alarm started blaring. "The hell is that?" Daryl exclaimed, nudging Clary towards the door.

"Doc, what's going on?" T-Dog asked.

"Clary, go!" Daryl barked. She was a few seconds ahead of him, having chosen to jump over a railing instead of going around it like Daryl. Clary just barely made it through the doorway when the doors suddenly closed, Daryl nearly slamming into the door. Clary got out, left in the hallway alone, while Daryl was trapped with everyone else in the computer lab. Clary turned as she heard the door closing, crying, "Daryl!"

"No," he breathed, then hit the door with a hand, yelling, "Clary!"

"Did you just lock us in?" Glenn questioned, the fear palpable in his voice. "He just locked us in!"

"You son of a bitch!" Daryl shouted, turning and running towards Jenner.

"Shane!" Rick shouted, seeing as he was the closest and strong enough to stop the hunter. Daryl got to the doctor first, trying to drag him away from the computer he sat in front of, but Shane pulled him off as T-Dog ran to help. T-Dog shouted at him to stop, while Shane lifted Daryl off the ground in an attempt to get him to stop. The only thing that did, however, was Clary's shout from the door. " _Daryl!"_

Everyone turned at Clary's voice, realizing for the first time that she wasn't with them in Zone 5. Daryl tore away from Shane, pushing around people as he made a dash for the door. "Clary!" he shouted. "Clars, I'm here!"

Rick took one look at the door, the Dixon, and then the doctor. He made his way down, a look in his eyes that no one there had seen before. "Jenner, open that door now," he commanded.

"There's no point," Jenner told them. "Everything topside is locked down. The emergency exits are sealed."

"Well, open the damn things," Dale called.

"That's not something I control. The computers do. I told you once that front door is closed, it wouldn't open again. You heard me say that." Jenner paused a moment. "It's better this way."

"What is?" Rick inquired. "What happens in twenty-eight minutes?" Jenner didn't answer, so Rick shouted, "What happens in twenty-eight minutes!"

"You know what this place is?" Jenner exclaimed, standing to face Rick. "We protected the public from very nasty stuff!"

Daryl tuned the doctor out as he went into a rant, turning to the door. "Clary, you listening?" he asked.

"All ears," she replied.

"Look for anything that could open the door. I'm gonna do the same from over here. If we can't, I'll break the damn door down. I ain't lettin' you die today."

They were both silent a minute, searching every part of the door. "Daryl," Clary said. "I got nothin'. This door ain't openin'."

"My ass it ain't," Daryl said shortly. "I'll make it open."

Down at the computers, Jenner composed himself after his outburst, taking a seat again. "In the event of catastrophic power failure, H.I.T.'s are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out."

"H.I.T.'s?" Rick questioned.

"Vi, define."

Vi, the automated computer system, launched into a long description, and most of the group didn't understand most of it. Other than the only thing equivalent to the power of a H.I.T. is a nuclear bomb. "It sets the air on fire," Jenner said simply. "No pain. An end to sorrow, grief, regret. Everything."

Daryl, who had turned when he heard Vi speaking, turned back to the door. "Clary? Could you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Clary questioned.

"Could you hear Vi?"

"No, why?"

"No reason," Daryl said with a shake of his head. He didn't want her knowing that. He didn't want her to be even more scared in her last minutes that she already was. As he turned towards the others, he shouted, "Shane! Where's the axe?"

Shane tossed him the one he was holding, T-Dog handing the other one to Shane. Daryl turned to Jenner, yelling to him to open the door before he broke it down. Jenner ignored him, and Daryl turned back to the door. "Clary!" he shouted. "Get back! We're breaking the bitch down!"

With that, he swung the axe, but it didn't leave a dent in the door. Shane yelled, "Get out of my way!"

He ran to the door, axe in hand, and arrived swinging. Still, nothing happened, even as the two repeatedly swung for at least ten minutes. In that timeframe, Clary ran through the halls, getting everyone's bags and looking for another way out. She didn't find one, but she did get everyone's stuff in case Jenner let them out, something that Clary seriously doubted would happen. Daryl didn't stop, didn't give up, even as the clock dipped past the twenty minute mark. Shane made his way down to to Rick, informing him, "We can't make a dent. Even with Dixon's determination."

"Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher," Jenner helpfully told them.

Daryl, as soon as he heard Jenner beginning to speak, started making his way towards the doctor. As he finished the statement, Daryl had enough with the doctor, and raised the axe, exclaiming, "Your head ain't!"

"Daryl!" Rick shouted, and it took three people to hold him back, Glenn running to help. Shane wasn't lying when he said Daryl was determined. Daryl only stopped when he heard Lori saying, "Carl? Carl, where are you going?"

They all turned to watch as Carl made his way up to the door. He placed his hand on it, near the middle, asking, "Clary? Hey, it's Carl."

"Is everyone okay?" Clary asked.

"Yeah."

"Are you?"

Carl paused, leaning his forehead against the cool metal door. "I'm a little scared."

Clary raised her hand, resting it against the door, on the opposite side of Carl's. "Me too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I, um, I'm alone, out here, and it's kinda creepy. The lights are mostly off. They're flickering. It's like a horror movie in here."

"It's a horror movie outside, too."

"I know. Carl?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's Glenn? If we only have fifteen minutes left to live, I wanna talk to him."

Carl turned, yelling, "Glenn!"

The Korean ran up to the door, while Carl said what he thought was his final goodbye to his best friend before leaving the two alone. "Glenn, if these are our last minutes, I wanna thank you," Clary said, leaning against the door. "You know, for taking care of me. You didn't have to. You didn't even know me."

"It didn't matter, Clary," he replied. "You saved my life. I owed you."

"So, um, I've only trusted a handful of people my entire life, and I wanted to say that I consider you my brother."

"Clary, we're gonna get out of this," Glenn told her.

"How do you know?"

"Glass half full kinda guy, remember?" Glenn said with a grin, and he was rewarded with a chuckle from Clary. He turned as he heard Daryl approaching, then watched as he stopped next to Shane, saying, "What we talked about, I think it's time."

Shane nodded, skulking into the shadows, while Daryl continued up to the door. "Hey, Clary," Glenn said. "There's someone that wants to talk to you."

"It's me," Daryl said as he slid down next to the door, leaning his back against it. "I'm sorry, Clars. I can't get it."

"Well, this _is_ the CDC," Clary said, mirroring his position. "You'd think they'd have strong doors."

"I'm not over there with you," he stated. "I can't forgive myself for that. You're all alone."

"I'm not, not really," Clary said. "I can still hear you, if you're at the door."

"Can't you just go?" Daryl asked her. "Just run, get out? _Survive_."

"No."

"Why do you have to throw away the rest of your life for us? You could do great things, Clary. If you'd just run. Just go, Clary. Get out."

"Not without you. We're in this together, Daryl. Where you go, I go. And if that means that you're staying, then I'm staying."

"Wouldn't it be kinder?" Jenner questioned from the workstations. "More compassionate to just hold your loved ones and wait for the clock to run down?"

"Then why'd you close the door?" Daryl called. "My baby sister's out there. Alone." His eyes drifted to Carol, who held on tightly to Sophia, and to Lori, who sat with her arm around Carl. "You hold 'em close, while you still can. 'Cause I can't hold mine."

Everyone except Daryl turned at the sound of a gun cocking, looking to see Shane returning with a shotgun. "Shane, no!" Rick shouted, running to stop him.

"Stay outta my way, Rick," Shane told him, shoving him away. "Stay outta my way!" He put the barrel of the gun to Jenner's head, threatening, "Open that door, or I'm gonna blow your head off. Do you hear me?!"

"Brother, this not the way you do this," Rick said. "We'll never get out of here."

"Shane, you listen to him," Lori ordered.

"He dies, we all die!"

Rick tried to wrestle the gun from Shane's hands, but he put up a fight. With a yell, he shifted his aim away from Jenner, firing into some computers directly to Jenner's right. Rick managed to take the gun from Shane, shoving him to the ground. He stood over them, nearly using the butt of the gun to hit Shane. He questioned, "Are you done now? Are you done now?"

"Yeah, I guess we all are," Shane replied.

Rick let him go, stepping away and handing the gun off to T-Dog. He turned back to Jenner, saying, "I think you're lying."

"What?" Jenner questioned.

"You're lying," Rick repeated. "About no hope. If that were true, you'd have bolted with the rest or taken the easy way out. You didn't. You chose the hard path. Why?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does matter. It always matters. You stayed when the others ran. Why?"

"Not because I wanted to," Jenner finally said, turning to face Rick. "I made a promise." He pointed to the screen that they had watched a vigil on earlier, one of the test subjects as they died. "To her. My wife."

"Test Subject Nineteen was your wife?" Lori questioned.

"She begged me to keep going as long as I could. How could I say no? She was dying."

For Daryl, all he had to do was replace the word "she" with his sister's name, and he found himself in the exact same spot. With renewed vigor, he picked up the axe, swinging once again.

"It should've been me on that table," Jenner continued. "I wouldn't have mattered to anybody. She was a loss to the _world._ Hell, she ran this place. I just worked here. In our field, she was _an Einstein._ Me? I'm just Edwin Jenner. She could've done something about this? Not me."

"Your wife didn't have a choice," Rick said. "You do. That's all we want. A choice, a chance."

"Daryl," Clary said. "Daryl, stop."

"No!" he shouted, and the others turned, realizing that he was talking to Clary. "No! I won't give up on you! I can't!"

"Daryl, listen to me!" she barked. "You and Shane, y'all always said I had a way with words. Let me try. Let me get us outta here."

"The others, they can't hear you."

"That's why I need you to do it for me. Nineteen was Jenner's wife, right?"

"I thought you couldn't hear."

"I can't. It was a guess, a theory."

Daryl paused. "What do you need me to do?"

"Just repeat what I'm sayin', alright?"

"Alright."

"Daryl?" Glenn called. "What's going on?"

"Clary's got somethin' to say," Daryl answered. "Alright, Clary, you're our shot. Make it count." Daryl repeated, "Your wife wanted you to go as long as you could, right? That's what we want to do… We want to go out there and go as long as we can… Try as hard as we can… We want to try to live as long as we can… It's what your wife wanted you to do… So c'mon, give us our chance."

Jenner was quiet for a long moment, then shook his head, saying, "I told you, topside's locked down. I can't open those."

He made his way over to a desk, swiping a card. The door suddenly opened, and Daryl dropped the axe. Clary threw her arms around her brother, burying her face in his shoulder so the group wouldn't see her red eyes. So they wouldn't see that she had been crying. "I'm here, it's okay," he whispered to her. To the others, he shouted, "C'mon! Let's go!"

Glenn echoed his yell as he was the first one to run up, ducking around Daryl and wrapping Clary in a hug. The others ran for the door, noticing all of their bags in the hallway, and looked to Clary as she stepped away from Glenn. Sophia suddenly wrapped her in a hug, whispering, "Thank you."

"There's your chance," Jenner said, looking to Rick. "Take it."

"I'm grateful," Rick said.

"The day will come when you won't be," Jenner replied. He shook Rick's hand, then whispered something in his ear.

"C'mon, we got four minutes!" Glenn shouted.

T-Dog tried to pull Jacqui up the ramp with him, but she had already decided that she wanted to stay. Andrea decided to stay behind as well, but Dale tried to persuade her not to. "Dale!" Clary shouted.

"Just go!" he yelled. "Go!"

Everyone grabbed their bags, looking to Clary as they ran for the lobby. "You just saved us a hell of a lot of time," Shane told her. "Maybe even saved us."

Clary went red, murmuring, "Least I could do."

They reached the lobby within a minute, T-Dog and Daryl trying the doors with no luck. Shane and Daryl took off for the large windows just a few feet away, trying to break open the windows with their axes. It didn't cut it, didn't break it, just scratched it. T-Dog grabbed a chair, trying to use a chair to bust the windows open. Clary looked down at her watch before shouting, "Three minutes!" She grabbed a handgun, putting a clip in it. "Outta my way, boys!"

Shane, Daryl, and T-Dog jumped down from the windows, and she unloaded half a clip into the window, but it was useless. She let out a stream of curses, causing Lori to cover Carl's ears, as if he hadn't heard them from Clary before. "The glass won't break?" Sophia questioned.

"I'll break the fucker if it's the last thing I do!" Clary barked.

Carol started forward, digging in her bag as she said, "Rick, I have something that might help."

"Carol, I don't think a nail file's gonna do it," Shane deadpanned.

"Do what you're gonna do, and do it fast," Clary said. "We're down to two-fifteen." Instead of producing a nail file, Carol produced a grenade. "Holy shit, Carol's packin' heat!"

"The first morning at camp, when I washed your uniform, I found this in your pocket," she said, handing it to Rick. Everyone dove for cover as Rick pulled the pin, setting it by the window. He ran for cover, the blast throwing him into the air. But the window shattered.

They climbed out of the window, taking out the walkers that stumbled towards them after being drawn out by the blast. The group hurried to their cars, Daryl taking his sister's hand and pulling her towards his beat up Ford truck. They climbed in, tossing their bags and the axe in the bed before climbing in the cab. Daryl cried, "Get down!"

"Wait!" Clary said, seeing two people exiting the building. "They made it! Andrea and Dale!"

The horn of the RV was blown by Rick, Lori shouting out the window for Dale and Andrea to get down. Daryl grabbed Clary's wrist, looking at her watch, and saw that they had less than ten seconds. He pushed her down, covering her body with his. The CDC exploded, the explosion rocking everyone in the cars. Even though they were far away, they could still feel the heat from it. Everyone slowly sat up in their vehicles, checking to make sure the others were okay over the CB as Dale and Andrea climbed in the RV. Daryl slowly exhaled, his arm still around his sister as he looked down at her. "You okay?" he questioned.

Clary leaned into her brother, closing her eyes as she breathed out a sigh of relief that they got out alive. "So that's what you didn't want me to know."


	3. Leaving

**Season 1-2:**

 **Leaving**

The weather's starting to change in Georgia, starting to get colder. I rub my shoulder, the pain that comes with the changing weather shooting through it. I shiver as the night air has suddenly become colder that what it normally is, rubbing my bare arms. Daryl slides off the hood of his truck, leaning in the cab for a moment before climbing back up beside me. He tosses my jacket at me, and I put it on as he scolds, "You're gonna catch a cold, not wearin' it."

"Says the one that doesn't own a shirt with sleeves," I reply.

Daryl scoffs, shaking his head at me. He looks towards the other cars in our caravan, most of the group asleep. In fact, I think we _are_ the only ones awake. We fall into a silence, an unknown amount of time passing before Daryl breaks it. He says, "We need to leave."

I don't question it. "Where would we go?"

"I don't know," Daryl admits. "Just anywhere. Nowhere with this group. Maybe we could head to Cancún. I hear it's nice."

"'Cancún,'" I repeat, shaking my head.

"What's wrong with Mexico?" Daryl questions, cracking a grin. "Where do you want to go?"

I pause at that. "I… I don't know. It's weird, being free. Money's not a problem anymore, neither is Will. We can go anywhere we want. I mean, maybe not the west hemisphere, but North America, South America. The whole world's ours. It belongs to us." I look over at my brother. "So why do we have to go?"

"They're dangerous," Daryl says.

"So are we," I reply. "You know that. We're Dixons, Daryl. It's in our blood to be dangerous."

"Not like us," Daryl argues. "It's different. We have to leave 'em behind."

"I don't want to leave them, Daryl. Rick, Carl, Glenn. I don't wanna leave 'em. I can't leave 'em. I'm not Merle. I can't just take off."

"No, you're not Merle. You're still here. That's why we have to leave. Because I'm scared that if we spend one more day with them, you won't be. They've nearly gotten you killed too many times."

"Just because I put myself on the line for 'em doesn't mean they're gettin' me killed."

"One of these days, you're gonna die, and it's gonna be their fault," Daryl says. "They've gotten too close already. What happened at the camp's just the tip of the iceberg. Hell, just lookin' for supplies, you've nearly been killed. Then there's the CDC, the nursing home. Oh, don't get me started on the Vatos' place."

"Daryl, I wanted to do that," I tell him. "You know that, right? I did that for you. I was willing to sacrifice myself so you'd get out alive."

"I don't give a shit!" Daryl barks. "I thought I lost you the other night! I'm not goin' through that again! I'm not ready to lose you! Especially not because of them! I can't lose you! So we're leaving!"

"No!" I cry, jumping off the hood of the truck. "No. I'm not going." I turn away from Daryl, shaking my head. "I'm not going. I can't."

"You can," Daryl says, sliding off the hood of his truck. "Please, Clary, don't fight me on this."

I turn back to him. "Look, Daryl, you don't know those people like I do. You haven't had a chance to get to know 'em. Those are good people. They won't last without us."

"We won't last with 'em!"

"Daryl! Those people took me in, took care of me while you weren't there! I've got friends in Carl and Sophia, a brother in Glenn!"

"We had a brother!" Daryl exclaims, his voice cracking. "Until they left him for dead!"

By that point, I'm nearly in tears. I shakily sigh, my voice soft as I say, "If you wanna go, go. I can't stop you. But I won't join you." I turn my back on him. "I may be the one walkin' away, but you're the one that's leavin'. Goodbye, Daryl."

I walk towards the RV, wiping my eyes on my hand as I step inside. I freeze when I see Glenn by the window. "You really meant that?" Glenn asks.

"How much did you hear?" I ask, stepping towards him.

"Enough," he says. "You really consider me a brother?"

I don't know how to answer that, even though the answer's yes. I'm at a loss for words, but I somehow manage, "You've been there for me."

Glenn understands, though. He knows what I'm trying to say. I turn when the door opens again, Daryl stepping into the RV. He glares at Glenn, and I know he truly doesn't have anything against him. Daryl's just pissed that Glenn's the reason he can't get me to leave with him. "Clary," Daryl says. "Come with me."

"I've already told you," I say.

"I just want to talk." I don't move. "Please."

Daryl turns away, shaking his head at me when I still don't move. He exits the RV, and I watch him head back over to his truck out the window. Glenn closes the curtains as he says, "I think you better go after him, Clary. He's your brother, after all."

I sigh softly, then lean up, kissing Glenn's cheek before I leave. "Just in case," I say.

"Do what you can," Glenn says. "I get it if you can't."

I nod once, looking away from him as I exit the RV. Daryl leans against the hood, watching me. "Thought about what you were sayin'," Daryl says as I approach. "Where you go, I go. If you're stayin', then so am I. I'm not leavin' you again, Clary."

"You don't want to leave anymore?" I question.

Daryl shakes his head, holding out an arm for me. I don't hesitate to run to him, wrapping my arms around his torso. "We're not gonna leave, 'cause I can't take what makes you happy away from you," Daryl whispers. "As long as you want to stay, we will. We're not leaving."


	4. Lost Girls

**Season 2:**

 **Lost Girls**

Shane Walsh knew he was going to have a hell of a day. He could feel it.

His ankle was killing him, but he wouldn't dare admit it. He followed Rick through the forest, searching for the little girl he knew that they both knew was dead. He didn't say that either, not yet. He forgot about it for a moment as Rick started asking him about his love life in high school, the two joking around as they walked. Even after all those years, every time they had the conversation, Shane always teased Rick about his ex, Sheila. To this day, Rick defends that he just got mixed up on the bases. Shane shook his head as they continued on, saying, "We shouldn't be talking about this stuff. That life, it's gone and everyone in it. Sheila. Maryanne, Mrs. Kelly. It's like we're old folk. All the people in our stories are dead."

"Or veterans of war," Rick added.

"Veterans of war," Shane echoed. "Huh. Dead and gone."

"We can't just forget 'em."

"The hell we can't. It's hard enough accepting what's happened without digging up the past. I'll tell you what it is. It's nostalgia. It's like a drug. Keeps you from seeing things the way they are. That's a danger, Rick. You got people depending on you."

"You think I don't know that?" Rick asked, stopping beside Shane.

"I don't know," Shane replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "What're we doing? You got every able body as your disposal out scouring the woods for a little girl we both know is likely dead."

"You think we should abandon the search?" Rick questioned.

"It's not my call, is it?"

Shane started to continue on, while Rick stayed where he was. "I'm asking. I'm asking."

Rick took off after Shane, who continued walking. "Survival, Rick. It means making hard decisions. But you've got this knack. You spead us thinner and thinner. I'm trying to save lives here, and you're risking them. You're out saving cats from trees."

Rick ducked around the other side of a tree, stopping in front of Shane. "Is that what you think Sophia is?" he demanded. "A cat in a tree?"

"Don't do that, man. Don't twist my words. How many times we get called up to look for a missing child, man? You got seventy-two hours. Seventy-two hours, and then after that, you're looking for a body. And that was before. I mean, you honestly think we're just gonna find Sophia alive?"

"Are you that sure we won't?"

"We being completely honest?"

"I'm counting on you to be."

"It's math, man. Alive or not, Sophia, she only matters to the degree in which she don't drag the rest of us down." Shane scoffed, shaking his head at Rick's expression. "I thought you wanted honest, man. If we just moved on, we'd be halfway to Fort Benning right now and Carl wouldn't have gotten shot. You said so yourself. But we're out here, we're risking lives. Your own son almost died. Otis, he paid that bill. What the hell are we still doing this for?"

"I had her in my hand, Shane. She looked in my eyes and trusted me. I failed her. If I hadn't, she wouldn't be out here." Rick paused, sighing. "Look, Clary thinks all of this is on her. We all know that ain't true. But she won't stop blaming herself. I think Sophia's still alive and I'm not gonna write her off. I'm not gonna leave her when she could be just a hundred yards away, alive. What would it do to Clary if we abandoned the search right now? If we just packed up and left, not knowing what happened to that little girl? We'd lose another, _that's_ what would happen. Sophia would be left in the woods, lost and alone, and Clary... I haven't known her long, not nearly as long as you or Carl, but I know the type of person she is. I've seen it. She's a good kid, determined, brave, and loyal. But she's reckless, and that's dangerous. Hell, she'll probably get herself killed just _looking_ for Sophia. And without the closure of knowing what happened, being forced to move on and leave her friend behind, we both know what would happen. I mean, you know, right, Shane?"

"She wouldn't hesitate to off herself."

"If we abandon the search, we'd lose two little girls."

Shane looked away, then noticed a cloth stuck to a tree like the red one he put on a tree earlier, but it was a different color. "It's blue," he said. "It's Andrea and T-Dog. Looks like we wondered into their grid."

He turned and walked away, starting to make the loop that would take them back to camp. Rick followed behind him, silent, with the tension thick in the air. They came to part of a trail where the dirt was loose, small rocks making it easy to twist an ankle. Shane put his foot down the wrong way, and he lost his balance as his bad ankle twisted. He fell off the trail, landing on his ass. "Shane?" Rick called up, jogging to catch up to him. Rick looked down at his friend, clearly struggling to keep it together. It was as if they had forgotten about the argument they had. "You good?"

"Never mention this to anyone," Shane replied, refusing Rick's offer to help him up.

Shane Walsh came to the conclusion that his pride was having a worse day than he was.

* * *

They would later agree that the Dixons took the prize for the worst day.

First, their horses knocked them off, sending them down a slippery slope into a lake. Where they were pierced with their own arrows. Oh, and the only way out of the ravine was to climb up a cliff that was almost completely perpendicular with the ground.

It took some searching, but Clary and Daryl finally found their crossbows under the surface of the lake. Clary took the lead in climbing, grabbing onto branches and roots to pull herself up. Daryl was right behind her, doing the same thing, until they reached the top. Well, Clary was the only one that made it up the entire way. Daryl missed a handhold, lost his grip, and fell back down to the bottom of the cliff. Up top, Clary passed out and then woke to a walker trying to eat her. She fought it off, killed it and some of its buddies that it brought along to the Clary Buffet.

It took her a long time without her horse, but she made it to the treeline of the forest surrounding the farm. She leaned against a tree for support, looking down at her bleeding side. Even with a cloth tied around it, her wound kept on bleeding. She was starting to feel lightheaded, so she closed her eyes, resting her head against the tree before collapsing.

* * *

Shane figured the best way to get out of the camp, away from the eyes of Rick and the people that wanted to continue searching for Sophia, was to do a lap around the perimeter of Hershel's farm. He walked in silence, a gun and knife on his hip, as he kept an eye out for walkers. At the edge of the woods, across the field that Rick carried Carl through, he found one on the ground. Its shirt was bloodied, hair over its face, but Shane could tell it was a girl. A young one, too. He knew it wasn't Sophia. The hair was too dark and long for it to be Carol's daughter. He drew a knife as this walker wasn't even moving, preparing to kill it. Shane immediately stopped when he heard a groan come from her, realizing that it wasn't a walker, but a living girl. He sheathed his knife, kneeling beside her. It wasn't until after he pushed her hair out of her face did he realize that it was Clary, mostly unconscious and bleeding. "Clary?" he asked in surprise.

When he got no reply, he felt her forehead to see if she had a fever, the telltale sign of a walker bite. There was none, but the fever didn't hit until a few hours after the bite. Her shirt was heavy with blood as he pulled it up over her stomach, searching for a bite. He raised his eyebrows slightly at the Latin tattooed on her hip, then checked her for bites. He found none, but he couldn't figure out what caused the wound in her side. It wasn't a gunshot, then he looked at her crossbow beside her as it dawned on him. He put the weapon over his shoulder, his hand brushing blood that had started to pool around her as he did so. "Clary?" he repeated. "You with me, kid?"

Her eyes fluttered open at his voice. She whispered, " _Please."_

Clary didn't have to say it for Shane to know she was asking for his help, something she'd never do unless she knew she couldn't make it on her own. He picked her up, pressing her injured side closer to him to try to slow the bleeding. Shane took off across the field with Clary in his arms, a mirror image of Rick with Carl three days earlier. The rest of the group didn't notice him approaching, but they did when he stopped and ordered, "Get Hershel."

The camp froze, horrified at the sight of the young girl pale and limp. Shane barked, "Now!"

Glenn stood and took off to get the vet. Shane started to follow, but paused for a second to drop Clary's crossbow at T-Dog's feet. He followed Glenn into the farmhouse, and Carl pushed himself up as he saw Shane enter. His eyes widened as he asked, "Shane? Shane, what's happening?"

"Don't look, bud, alright?" Shane told him, turning in an attempt to hide Clary from the boy's view.

"Is she dead?"

Shane paused, knowing how close this kid was to being in a grave. He didn't answer, not wanting to get Carl's hopes up if she didn't make it. Instead, he continued on, avoiding Carl's gaze. "Glenn?" he called, not knowing where the Korean got to.

"Here!" Glenn replied, stepping out of a room. "In here!"

Shane carried her in, gently placing her on the bed. Hershel was already in there, waiting. He took one look at Clary, then at Shane as he fell back in a chair, noting all the blood on his shirt. "She needs blood or she won't survive," Hershel said, looking around at the men as Rick entered. "Anyone know her blood type?"

"O-Positive," Rick said, obviously in shock as he tried to comprehend what happened. His voice was the same way it was when he was asked by Hershel about Carl's type three days earlier. It was how he knew Clary's, having remembered that she said she'd be more than willing to bleed for a Grimes. "She's―she's O-Positive."

Shane chuckled despite the dark situation, sitting back in his chair. He rolled his shirt sleeve up, holding out his arm. "Guess we're lucky you got a donor right here. O-Positive, same as Dixon."

* * *

Clary woke hours later, the sun already having set. Her side was killing her, and she could feel stitches by her temple. She lifted her head, wondering for a moment where she was, before realizing that she was in a room in Hershel's house. Shane Walsh lounged in a chair next to her bed, watching her. "Evening," he drawled.

"Never say it like that again, Shane," she said. "It's creepy."

Shane smirked, leaning forward. " _Good evening."_

"Shane."

"I'll stop."

"Good idea." Clary looked around, noticing how he was the only one with her. "Shane?"

"Yeah?"

Her worry was evident as she whispered, "Where's Daryl?"

"He's alright," Shane told her. "Nearly went apeshit when he woke up earlier and didn't know where you were. Thank you for behaving like a civilized human being, unlike your brother."

"Where is he?"

"Next room over. He's sleeping."

"He's okay?"

"He's okay," Shane confirmed. Clary sighed in relief, laying back. Shane cleared his throat, commenting, "Nice shirt."

She looked down, finding that she was wearing a different shirt than before. It was large on her, and upside down, she read, "'King County Sheriff's Department.'" She glanced up at Shane. "Your shirt." She threw an arm over her eyes, then looked back at Shane. "Alright, am I missing something? Did we have a wild night that I don't remember?"

Shane chuckled. "Carol was in here, changed your shirt. It was covered in blood. So was mine."

"Your…" It dawned on her what he meant, sighing as she looked to Shane. "That's the second time in two days that you've saved my ass. I'm startin' to think you like me more than you're lettin' on, Walsh."

"You're Carl's friend," was the only thing Shane said.

Then, Carl entered, on his feet for the first time since he was shot. He kept his eyes downcast as he entered, not realizing that Shane was in there and that Clary was awake. He leaned against the wall, muttering, "I can't believe you're dead, Dixon."

Shane and Clary looked at each other, and Shane started, "Bud…"

Clary said, "Hey, Cowboy. Cool hat."

Carl froze for a moment before looking up at her, almost sprinting over to her. In his haste, he fell onto the bed with her, and Clary let out a yelp of surprise as she found herself pinned under Carl, his arms wrapped around her. His voice shook as he whispered, "You're alive. Oh my god, you're alive."

"Yeah, I'm alive, Grimes," she said, closing her eyes. Clary wrapped her arms around him, sliding her fingers into his hair, holding him in place. "I'm alive, Carl. I'm here."

Carl lifted his head from her shoulder, Clary's hands sliding from his torso as he pushed himself up on one arm. He looked to Shane, saying, "You said she was dead."

"I never said she was dead," Shane replied. "I just didn't know. I mean, she was close to it when I found her. I didn't want to get your hopes up."

"Hey," Clary said, looking up at Carl. "You okay?"

"Am _I_ okay?" Carl asked, turning back to her. "Are _you_ serious? You're asking if I'm okay?" She nodded. "I'm okay. How about you? What happened to you?"

"It's a, uh, it's a long story." She nodded to the officer in the chair. "Shane saved my ass." Carl laid down beside her, threading their fingers together. She looked over at him, nervously laughing as she asked, "What're you doing?"

"I'm gonna sleep with you," Carl said, grinning mischievously at her. Clary hit his arm, laughing. "No, really, I'm gonna spend the night here with you." Carl's eyes landed on the bandage on her arm, and he wrapped his hand around her arm, lifting it up. "Hey, what happened here?"

"You got me," she replied.

"You got Walsh blood running in your veins, kid," Shane said.

"Anything but Walsh!" Clary cried. "No, the horror!"

Carl and Shane chuckled, the latter remarking, "What a drama queen."

Clary's grin faded as she looked to Shane. "Hey, Shane, I mean it when I say this. Thank you."

Shane nodded as he stood, putting a hand on each of the teenagers' shoulders as he passed. "Remember, kids, use protection."

"Get out!" the two barked in unison, shooing him away. Shane picked up Carl's hat and tossed it on the bed. He laughed to himself as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Carl settled into the bed next to Clary, intertwining their fingers again. He said, "Hey, Dix?"

"Yeah?" Clary asked.

"I like your shirt."

"Shut it, Cowboy."


	5. Double Agent

**AN: Since this takes place over the course of multiple chapters/episodes, every time there's a break for a new scene, I listed where it was.**

* * *

 **Season 2:**

 **Double Agent**

 **2x07 - Pretty Much Dead Already**

"Where'd you get that?" Glenn asks, watching as I stick a revolver in my jeans.

I pause, looking at the Korean. "Guess we're lucky I don't listen. I'm going after Shane. Don't follow me, or tell Daryl."

I turn and walk away, into the woods. Shane has already disappeared into the woods, but I can track him easily. He's a man on a mission, not worried about someone following him. He tramples through the woods, leaving tracks so obvious even Glenn, who's never been hunting in his life, could follow them. I follow him to the swamps, where I can hear Dale's voice, and then Shane's. I stay behind a tree, waiting to see if I need to intervene. Shane stands on the riverbank, and Dale stands by a large tree, the bag of guns at his feet. "Yeah you are, Dale," Shane's saying. "Unless, well, you do have that rifle over your shoulder."

"You gonna shoot me like you did Otis?" Dale asks. He never believed Shane's story from the high school, and I didn't either. Like Dale, I think that Shane shot Otis so he could get away. "Tell another story?"

Shane chuckles. "No, man. When you really look at it, in the cold light of day, you're pretty much dead already. Just give me the guns. Do it now."

"You think this is gonna keep us safe?"

"Mm-hmm. I know it is."

"Rick is trying to get Hershel—"

"Dale, shut up. Just shut up and give me the guns."

Dale leans the bag against a tree, and pulls his rifle into his arms. "Am I gonna have to shoot you? Do I have to kill you? Is that what it's gonna take?"

Shane chuckles, and I put my revolver at Shane's head, pulling the hammer back. I was hiding quietly, but I think this'll get out of hand quickly. He flinches slightly at the cold metal, but then walks down the bank towards Dale. I keep my gun trained on him, but he stops when Dale's rifle is pressing against his chest. "Yeah. That's what it's gonna take."

Dale lowers his gun, unable to pull the trigger. "This is where you belong, Shane."

"How's that, Dale?"

"This world, what it is now, this is where you belong. And I may not have what it takes to last for long, but that's okay. 'Cause at least I can say when the world goes to shit, I didn't let it take me down with it." He shoves the bag of guns into Shane's arms.

Shane starts to walk off. "Fair enough."

I agree with Dale. This messed up world is where Shane belongs. Sometimes, I'm convinced he doesn't have a soul. I walk down the bank, nodding once as I pass Dale, then follow Shane back to the farm. He's already ahead of me, and I call, "Shane! Wait!"

He pauses, turning as I run to catch up, then double over in pain. "Whoa," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You shouldn't be running around yet."

"Yeah, I do lots of things I shouldn't," I reply, opening my eyes as I straighten. "You got a better gun in there? This thing holds four rounds."

"What? You want a different gun?" Shane questions, then looks me over. "Alright. I think I got something for you. Walk with me."

I follow him, having to jog occasionally to keep up with his long strides. "Jesus, stop walkin' so damn fast."

"My bad," Shane replies, turning to trade my revolver for a handgun.

I hold it up, looking it over. "Smith and Wesson. This one holds... nine rounds?"

"Ten," Shane corrects. "You know your guns. I'm impressed."

"Well, when you hunt as much as I do, you have to know to. That, and with all this shit..."

"You wanted a gun. One that has a large clip. Why?"

I sigh, then look up at him. "I hate to say it, but... You're right. Rick's takin' too damn long. There's one way we can protect ourselves, and it's by doin' this."

"You're... on my side?"

"You got me, you got Daryl, too. The two of us alone are a force to be reckoned with. With me, you might get Glenn. Depends on how close he and Maggie are. Use that to your advantage."

"Alright," Shane says, holding out a hand to shake mine. "You have my ear."

I shake his hand. "We might've fought on, like, seventy-five different fronts, but you're right about this."

"Clary... you have Rick's ear, too."

"Only because he's quick to trust. Daryl and I, we don't choose any side except for the one that'll benefit us. It's somethin' we learned from Merle."

"Rick trusts you, listens to you. Think you can work that to our advantage?"

"Are you asking me to be a spy for you?"

"Can you?"

"I..." I sigh, unsure. "Maybe."

"Good girl," Shane says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "You'll tell me if he's planning anything, right?"

I look down at my feet as we walk, murmuring, "Yes."

 _Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

 **2x08 - Nebraska**

"I'm coming with you," I inform Rick as I leave the room, where we've gathered after it was discovered that Hershel was missing and probably in town. "We gotta get Hershel back."

I walk out of the farmhouse, where I can hear Lori, Rick, and Shane talking. I start down the steps, then turn as someone takes my arm, pulling me with them. I look up to find Shane beside me, and he mutters, "Your answer?"

"What?" I question.

"Are you going to work for me or not?"

"I..." I pause, still unsure. I'm not Shane's biggest fan, and I like Rick, but that _would_ make me the best for a double agent. Working for the person I'm supposed to hate, against the person they think I like. Then, I see Carl sitting on the ground in front of the tent he shares with his parents, not sure if I can work against his dad. Shane releases my arm as we near him, and we stop only for a second for me to give Carl's hat back to him, then continue on, Shane walking me across their camp to where Daryl and I moved our camp to. "Shane, I..."

"You need time to think?"

"Yeah," I say, glad that he understands. "I don't know. I mean, we've had our differences, but you were right about the CDC. About the barn. We wouldn't have known... have known she was in there otherwise. And Rick, he... He's just indecisive about it all. But I don't know if I can do that to Carl, betray his dad. So give me a couple days to think about it?"

Shane nods once. "Alright. Watch Rick when y'all are in town. Even if you're not thinking 'bout spying for me, either way, watch him." Daryl doesn't look up as we approach, continuing to make arrows out of branches, but he does when Shane tells me, "Remember what I said, Clary. It might save you one day."

"What're you doin' here?" Daryl snaps, glaring at Shane. It's no secret that the two hate each other. "And what the hell are you tellin' her?"

"He was just teachin' me 'bout a couple of self-defense techniques," I cover for Shane. "I came over to tell you that Hershel's missin'."

"And?" Daryl asks.

"I'm goin' with Glenn and Rick to find him. Wanted to see you before I left."

"You never saw me before you ran off before."

"It's different now, Daryl. Lots of things have changed."

"You," Daryl says, turning to Shane now. "You never said what the hell you were doin' here."

"Clary said she was walking across to see you," Shane lies. "With that gunfire, knew it'd attract walkers. Thought I'd walk with her. After the cliff, it'd only hurt her more to take on a walker. With her size and her side."

Daryl narrows his eyes, not believing him, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes do the talking when he looks at me. _Everything okay?_ I nod once, and he lets it go. Or, at least, lets that subject go. "You sure you want to?" Daryl questions. "Go lookin' for Hershel?"

"I can either sit on my ass blamin' myself for what happened to Sophia, or I can do somethin' with my life and find Hershel. I'm gonna do what I can, and go into town. Shane, walk me back?"

"Let's go," he replies, and this time, he doesn't dare touch my arm as we turn and walk back the way we came. Not with Daryl watching. He'd know something wasn't right, and he'd probably kill Shane before we got a chance to tell him what was happening.

"Shane?" I question.

"Yeah?"

"There's somethin' you have to promise me. Somethin' I want if I do this for you."

"I'm listening."

"Daryl and I come out of this, unscathed. Whatever happens, whether you throw a coup d'état or you just have me workin' on the inside for you, nothing happens to Daryl. Glenn, too. They're all I got."

Shane holds out a hand. "You work for me, and it's a deal."

"Hey, I'm just settin' up the terms. I still want time to think."

"I can do that," Shane tells me. "Act normal. We're almost up here."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Let me put away my flashing neon sign that says 'double agent.' Jesus Christ, Shane. Go rub your fuckin' head."

Shane glares at me as Rick tries not to laugh, having only heard the part about Shane rubbing his head. "You know, you tend to do that a lot," Rick says.

Rick walks off, his loaded Colt Python in hand, while I take a Glock 17 from the bag of guns. " _That,_ " I whisper, "is how you act normal."

* * *

 **2x10 - 18 Miles Out**

"I don't think you can keep them safe."

Rick freezes at Shane's words, turning to look at the other man. After a second of silence, all hell breaks loose. Rick shoves Shane against the car, and the other man headbutts our leader. Rick falls to the ground from the force of the blow, and starts to get back up when Shane comes over, pulling his gun out. I jump in, knowing how bad it'll get if nothing is done. I drop my crossbow as I run, shoving the gun out of Shane's hand. Rick shoves Shane against the car again, landing two well placed punches before I try to pull the two men apart. Shane throws Rick to the ground, and I try to push him away from the leader, but I only earn a hard blow to the jaw for my efforts. I fall to the ground from the force of the punch, then get back up as Rick shoves Shane against a truck. He punches Shane in the gut a few times before Shane kicks him off. Rick lands on his back, and Shane kneels over him. Rick pushes him off before he can land a punch, then gets to his feet. Shane shoves Rick against a truck, and Rick throws a punch. Shane throws a punch before throwing Rick to the ground. He rolls until he's at a motorcycle, and Shane storms over. He brings the bike down on top of Rick, who grunts in pain. Shane storms over to the trailer that his gun is under. He kneels, to get it, but I tackle him away from it, or try to, at least. It surprises Shane so much that he loses his balance, and we roll. When we stop, Shane's on top, his knees pinning my arms down, and I'm at his mercy. "We're on the same side, right?" he questions. "You're working for me?"

"Fuck you," I snap. "I ain't gonna do anything for you."

I fight back, headbutting him, but he doesn't fall. He reels back, and I get one of my arms free before he throws a punch. I struggle against him, trying to get out from under the man, but it's useless. Shane has me pinned and I'm still receiving blows. I think of something my brothers taught me to do if I'm ever in this situation, but I've never done it before. I bring my knee up, kneeing him where he's tender. Shane groans, and I throw a punch before pushing him off of me. I get up, running to help Rick. It takes both of us to get the bike off of him, me pulling and him pushing. It falls towards me, and I barely back up in time. I pull Rick to him feet, and he immediately goes after Shane, who has retrieved his gun and is getting ready to shoot Randall. He tackles Shane to the ground, and they roll. Rick struggles to get the gun, but Shane ain't giving up. "Get off me, man," Shane growls.

I pull my own gun out, firing two shots into the air. It gives Rick enough time to take Shane's gun and throw it away before throwing Shane to the ground. Rick sits on top of Shane, his legs keeping his former co-worker from moving. He throws punches, and I let him. Shane had it coming, it was just a matter of who gave it to him. Rick climbs off of Shane, and stands with his back to the building. I flank him, tucking my gun back under the waistband of my jeans. "You're not doing this," Rick orders.

"You don't get to make the calls anymore," I say harshly, my voice full of hostility. "You're a damn fool if you thought you could ever take it from Rick."

* * *

 **2x11 - Judge, Jury, Executioner**

"The whole point of us coming up here is to get away from you people," Daryl says, and I look up to see Dale walking over. This must be about Dale's big plan to get everyone to agree with sparing Randall's life.

"Gonna take more than that," he says.

"Carol send you?"

"Carol's not the only one concerned about you, your new role in the group."

Daryl glances up at him. "This group's broken. We're better off fending for ourselves."

"You act like you don't care."

"Yeah, it's 'cause I don't."

"So live or die, you don't care what happens to Randall?"

Daryl pulls his jacket on, along with his leather vest with angel wings on the back. "Nope."

"Then why don't you stand with me, try to save the kid's life, if it really doesn't matter one way or another?"

"Didn't peg you for a desperate son of a bitch."

"Your opinion makes a difference. Same with you, Clary."

"Ain't nobody looking at us for nothing," I say as Daryl picks up his crossbow.

"Carol is, and I am. Right now. And Daryl, you obviously, you have Rick's ear."

"Rick just looks to Shane," Daryl sneers. "Let him."

Daryl turns to walk away, readjusting his crossbow. Dale calls after him, "You cared about what happened to Sophia—" Daryl stops, "—cared what it meant to the group. Torturing people? That isn't you. You're a decent man. So is Rick. Shane, he's different."

Daryl glances at me before taking a step towards Dale. "Why's that? 'Cause he killed Otis?"

I notice how Daryl doesn't mention Shane's attempts on my life. "He tell you that?" Dale asks.

"It ain't that hard, Dale," I say. "You don't gotta be Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. He told some story, 'bout how Otis covered him, saved his ass. He showed up with a dead guy's gun."

Daryl nods once before speaking. "Rick ain't stupid. If he didn't figure that out, it's 'cause he didn't wanna. It's like I said—group's broken."

Daryl turns and walks away, leaving Dale and I alone. I say, "Shane's gonna turn on us. On Rick, most of all. And I'm either safe, or I'm his first target."

"How do you know?" Dale questions.

"The day with the barn, when I went after him when we were in the woods. Shane asked me to work for him, to be a spy for him and get on Rick's good side. Get any information I could. I said I'd think about it, and when we were eighteen miles out, I told him no. And now, he has to cover his tracks. A dead girl can't speak. Please, don't tell anyone. Not Daryl, not Glenn. I can't have them knowing I'm a Judas walking among 'em. I don't know what to do, Dale. Shane's gonna kill me."

* * *

 **2x12 - Better Angels**

 _Sorry, brother._

Daryl's words before he put Dale out of his misery, the echo of Jess's words to Will before he shot him, echo once again in my head as I stand over Dale's grave. His grave is a mound of dirt, like the others near it, surrounded by rocks, with a cross made of sticks marking it as his, his name carved into it. Everyone else is busy with moving things into the farmhouse for the winter, but I walked away, instead going to the grave of my confidant. He took my secret to the grave with him. I turn as I sense someone watching me, finding Daryl a few feet away. "You okay?" I ask. "It's not easy, taking a life the first time."

Daryl nods once. "The hell are you doing over here? Randall's missing."

"Wait, what?"

Daryl extends a hand, waiting for me to take it. "Come on. I'll explain on the way. 'Cause Shane's gone, too."

* * *

 _This is it. I'm dead, and so is Rick._

Rick slowly makes his way towards Shane, who still has his gun aimed at the two of us, trying to talk him down. Shane's not having any of it. He lured us out here to kill us, and that's what he plans to do. Rick suddenly barks, "Clary, get down!"

I don't waste any time to do what he says as he lunges towards Shane, a glinting object in his hand. Shane's gun goes off as Rick shoves his hand to the side, away from him. He could only push it one way, to his left, where I was. I'd be dead right now if Rick hadn't warned me. I look up as Rick lowers Shane to the ground, pulling the knife out of the latter's heart. I get to my feet as Rick keeps Shane pinned to the ground as he dies. "Damn you for making me do this, Shane," Rick growls. "This was you, not me! Not me!"

Shane looks from the wound in his chest to Rick, unable to speak as he chokes on his own blood. His eyes drift to me, and I take a step backwards as his words from over a week ago ring in my ears. _You'll tell me if he's planning anything, right?_

Oh Shane, this was you. You were the one that planned this. This is your own fault.

It's only after Shane grows still that Rick starts sobbing, kneeling over the best friend he just killed. I close my eyes for a moment, gathering my courage. I have to tell Rick, right now. "Rick," I say as I start to lay my hand on his shoulder. "I was—"

Rick lashes out at me before I can confess, and I jump back as the bloodied knife slices the air where I was standing. I look down at my stomach, realizing that he didn't miss me after all. My shirt was cut, and I pull the bottom of it up, the cold night air hitting my stomach. Rick just nicked my stomach, a thin line of blood appearing in a horizontal stripe about an inch above my belly button. I look back at Rick as I drop my shirt, staring at him in shock. His eyes meet mine, whispering, "I… Clary, I'm so sorry." Then, he barks, "Go! Get out of here!"

I don't move, still in shock, and Rick yells, "Get out of here!"

I turn away, taking off into the woods as I hear Rick sobbing over his friend behind me. I stop as soon as I'm in the tree line, looking back towards Rick and Shane. Towards the person I nearly betrayed, and the third person that knew my secret. "You know what they say," I mutter to myself as I walk away. "Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead."


	6. Not Fruit

**Season 2-3:**

 **Not Fruit**

Aside from Rick, Daryl, T-Dog, and Carl, the group gathers near the front steps of a house, silent. They wait for the okay from Rick to enter, and I hear Beth ask, "Is that a little girl in there?"

As I walk up to the others from Daryl's bike, I ask, "What're you talkin'—"

A shout from inside cuts me off. "I said hands up!"

"Oh, my god," I whisper, recognizing the voice as soon as I hear it. I push through the others and into the house, asking, "Clem?"

Clementine stands in the hallway, gun raised in the direction of my people. She turns to me, recognition in her eyes. "You left without saying goodbye," Clementine says. "Where'd you go?"

"Atlanta," I answer, then turn as Rick starts to raise his gun. "Rick. I can vouch for her. It's okay. Guys, meet Clementine, like the fruit."

"But I'm not fruit," Clementine adds.

"Oh, honey, you're a peach, though," I say, glancing at her with a smile. "You cut your hair."

"Lee did it for me. So a walker wouldn't grab it."

"She calls 'em walkers," Rick notes.

"Where do you think she got it from?" I ask, glancing to him. "Clementine, these are my people." I gesture to each person as I introduce them. "This is Rick, our leader, and his son, Carl. That's T-Dog, and this is my big brother, Daryl." I turn as the rest of the group files in, and I grab Glenn, pulling him forward. "Glenn, you remember Lee's girl?"

"Clementine, yeah," Glenn says.

I gesture to the girl in front of us. "Look who it is."

"You took my walkie-talkie," Clementine says.

Glenn rubs the back of his head. "Sorry."

I step forward. "Clem, is there anyone else in the house?" She shakes her head, and I gesture to a door on my right. "That room. You and me. Now."

Clementine leads the way, and I close the door behind us. I crouch in front of the little girl, looking up at her. "Clem, honey, where's Lee?" Clementine immediately tears up. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry."

"Me, too," Clementine replies in a whisper.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," I say. "How?"

"He was bit looking for me."

"Why don't you come with us?"

"I have a group," Clementine says. "Omid and Christa, I need to find them. We were separated earlier. We have a place to meet. I'm going to go tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" I ask, and Clementine nods. "I'll tell you what. If you go tomorrow, and they're not there, come back. I'll make sure we stay. We'll take you in. Actually, either way, come back. I want to make sure you're okay." Clementine nods. "And again, Clem, I'm sorry."

We exit together, and I make my way over to Glenn, wrapping him in a hug. "What happened?" Glenn murmurs, knowing this is my way to speak to him without the others hearing. "What is it?"

I whisper, "Lee's dead. She's with others, but they got separated."

Glenn lifts his head as I pull away, saying, "Oh, Clementine, I'm sorry. And, um, I kind of lost the walkie."

"It's okay," Clementine tells him. "I think I knew they were dead anyway. I saw them on a street in Savannah. It was after that, when Lee, when he, um…"

Immediately, I remember the girl from the motor inn, the first person I killed. I find myself imagining the horrifying sight of Clementine shooting a bitten Lee. I take a step back until I reach Glenn, who was there that night. I can tell from Rick's eyes that he knows Clementine's words rocked me, and he suggests, "It's getting late. I think it's time we turned in for the night."

As everyone lays down, Clementine joins us in the living room. She walks over to where I sit next to Daryl, asking, "What you said back at the pharmacy, does that still apply?"

I smile softly, remembering that I told Clementine to stay by me in case we had to run, that I'd protect her. I pat the ground beside me, saying, "Get down here, peach."

Clementine smiles at the nickname, taking a seat beside me and leaning against the wall. As Rick heads out onto the porch to take watch, he pauses in the doorway to the living room. "Clary," he says, then gestures towards the porch with his head.

"I'll be right back, Clem," I mutter, getting to my feet.

I follow Rick out onto the porch, Rick pacing while I sit balanced on the porch railing. He asks, "What that little girl said, about 'them,' the guy, it looked like it hit you pretty hard. You alright?"

"His name's Lee," I say. "The 'them,' her parents. Lee wasn't her father. He was her Glenn, but more of a father instead of a brother. I only met Lee and Clementine because Glenn and I saved each other's lives the moment we met. We were at this motor inn, and walkers came. Glenn and I hid in one of those big ice machines, he radioed Lee. Lee came, a girl named Carley went with him. In Room Nine, there was a girl. Glenn thought she was in trouble, so we got up there and got the door open. She stepped out. She was bitten. I had already seen it, people turning. I knew she'd turn. She knew it, too.

"This girl, she wanted a gun to shoot herself with, to end it. Carley wouldn't give up hers, Lee wouldn't tell her to. Glenn was in shock, I think. I had a gun, so I said, 'Lee, take Glenn and Carley away. I'll be down in a minute.' They left, and I shot the woman. I ended it for her. That was the first time I killed, and it was barely four or five days in." I chuckle darkly. "I remember I told Lee that he didn't have the balls to do it. Little did I know, I was talkin' to Lee Everett. I didn't figure it out until later."

"Lee Everett?" Rick questions. "You mean the guy that killed the Senator?"

"The very same," I answer. "But I tell you what, even after killing, Lee was a damn good guy. Rest his soul."

"Clary, how many people do you know that are, um, well…"

"Well, shit, Ricky boy, spit it out."

"Uh, criminals?"

I show no change in expression or emotion, even thought I know what he's talking about. Shane, Lori, or Carl must've told him. "You heard about my ties to Heisenberg."

"What the hell?! I meant Merle and Lee! You knew _Heisenberg?"_

I close my eyes, sighing to myself, "Oh, you dumb fuck." I look back at Rick. "No, I never knew Heisenberg personally. I was good friends with his partner. In fact, he owes me a few favors."

"What'd you do for him?"

"Well, let's just say I gave him a hand and got a couple grand."

"Oh, Clary."

"Hey. I was careful, I didn't get caught. I was saving it."

"You're a drug dealer."

"No!" I exclaim. "Look, Jess needed some help, said he'd make it worth my while. I said I'd do it. I knew I'd get something in return. Jesse's a man of his word."

"I can't believe you," Rick says, trying not to laugh as he shakes his head. "How can you have ties with someone that powerful and _not_ be a drug dealer?" I shrug. "So how did you end up working for him?"

"I scratched his back so he'd scratch mine."

"Clever girl," Rick compliments. He's not doing a very good job of pretending to be disappointed that I'd broken the law.

"Thank you," I say, sliding off the railing.

Rick shakes his head, giving me a gentle push towards the door. "Get in there."

"I'll be out in a couple hours to take over," I promise, then step inside. I take my seat between Daryl and Clementine, who were sitting in an awkward silence. As soon as I sit down, Clementine's laying down with her head in my lap. I smile softly, brushing Clementine's hair out of her face. "G'night, peach."

"Night, Clary," Clementine whispers.

* * *

I take watch about two hours before the sunrise, Rick heading inside to sleep. The sky is starting to turn gray when the door opens, Clementine emerging. She had a backpack slung over her shoulders, her baseball cap on her head. "Leavin' already?" I ask.

"I want to get there as soon as I can," Clementine replies.

"Well, you should at least wait until the sun starts to rise," I tell her. "Right now, there are still a lot of places in the dark. Walkers hide easily in the dark." Clementine nods. "Won't be long, peach. Sun'll be up soon."

Clementine crawls up onto the porch railing beside me. She asks, "Why?"

I look over at her. "Why what?"

"Why didn't you say goodbye?"

"Well, um," I start, then pause, searching for the right words. "I'm not good at goodbyes. I couldn't stay there any longer. Did, um, did Lee or Carley ever tell you what I did while we were there?" Clementine shakes her head. "There was a girl in one of the rooms. She was bitten. We both knew what would happen. She asked for a gun, and Carley wouldn't give hers up." I hold up my gun. "This is the gun I used to take my first life. She was already dead, it was mercy; but I killed her nonetheless." I look back over at Clementine as I put my gun away. "That's why I couldn't stay. I didn't want to relive it. As soon as Glenn said he wanted to go, we left. I wasn't staying one minute more."

Clementine goes quiet, and I begin to think I frightened her by telling her all of this. I look over at her, but she's lost in thought. After a minute, she says, "If you think that scared me, it didn't."

"Okay, good," I say.

"Lee killed someone, too," Clementine tells me.

"I know. The Senator."

"How'd you know?" Clementine asks, looking at me. "Did he tell you?"

"No," I answer. "I figured it out myself. The look he gave me when I said he couldn't do it, his name. I figured it out after we left. Didn't change my opinion of him. He's a good guy."

Clementine nods in agreement. "I miss him."

"I know," I say, wrapping an arm around her. "I should've said goodbye. I wish I could."

"I couldn't do it," Clementine whispers. "I couldn't shoot him. He's still there."

"Still where?"

"A jewelry store in Savannah. Near the Marsh House. He made me handcuff him to the radiator."

"I'm sorry," I sigh softly, looking back out at the horizon. "Sun's coming up."

The sky's starting to turn orange, the top of the sun just above the horizon. "You better go," I tell her. "The others might try to stop you. I'll make sure we stay."

"I'll be back soon," Clementine promises.

* * *

"Hold it!" I hear Daryl shout from the front porch. I'm the first to react, running out to help defend us with my brother. Two people, a man and a woman, stand on the lawn in front of the house. I draw my gun on them, never having seen them before. Clementine emerges from between them, and we lower our guns. Daryl demands, "Where the hell have you been, Clementine?"

"I went to find Omid and Christa," Clementine answers, gesturing to each person as she said their name.

"So, you two are takin' care of Clem," I say as I walk down the stairs.

"Who're you?" Omid questions.

"The name's Clary Dixon," I say. "I'm a friend." I look to Clementine. "You alright, peach?" She nods. "You feel safe with 'em?" She nods again. "Alright." I look back at Omid and Christa. "You better take damn good care of that little girl. I'll find you if you don't."

"That threat isn't necessary," Christa tells me, extending a hand for me to shake. "I promise you, we'll take care of her."

I shake her hand, then Omid's. "Alright." I look down at Clementine. "So, well, chickadee, I guess this is goodbye."

Clementine runs forward, wrapping her arms around my waist. "Thank you," she whispers. "You saved my life back in the pharmacy."

"No problem," I tell her, wrapping my arms around her. "Stay safe, Clementine."


	7. Not Enough Blankets

**Season 2-3:**

 **Not Enough Blankets**

They had been on the road for about three months now after the fall of the farm, and they were guessing it was somewhere near January. Snow laid on the ground, something they woke up to the previous day. Clary and Glenn, deciding that sleeping all piled together still wasn't working the greatest, went on a run to find as many heavy blankets as they possibly could. They returned later that evening, and began distributing blankets to everyone. Clary sat aside the heaviest one they found, reserving it for Lori.

"Clary," Glenn said, leading her off to the side as the amount of blankets decreased. "I just took a quick count, and we don't have enough. Even with Daryl gone hunting, Maggie and I paired up, and two people always on watch, we still don't have enough."

"How many short are we?" Clary inquired.

"If Beth and Hershel share a blanket, one. If they don't, two."

Clary glanced around Glenn, and saw Beth settling down next to her father. "We're one short. I'll be fine."

"Clary," Glenn started, then stopped when he saw the look on her face. "It's not right. You don't have to freeze."

"I'm fine, Glenn," she repeated, then stepped around him. She gave the last blanket to Lori, and said, "You need to stay warm."

"But you don't have a blanket," Lori said.

"I'm fine. I don't need one. I'm not cold. Night, Lori."

Clary stepped back as Lori curled up on the couch, under the blanket. She pulled her jacket tighter around her, sitting down against a wall as she prepared herself for a long night. Carl, who was sitting at the corner where the two walls met, looked over at her, noticing her lack of blanket. "Clary," he hissed, and she turned at the sound of her name. "Come here."

Clary got to her feet, walking over. "Sit down," he told her. "C'mon."

After a moment's hesitation, she sat down next to him. Immediately, Carl wrapped his arm and part of the blanket around her. She tried to pull away, saying, "No, keep it for yourself. I'm fine."

"Don't argue. It's big enough for the both of us," Carl replied. "And I'm not blind, or stupid. You're freezing. I could feel you shaking. So sit down."

Unable to argue, Clary settled down next to him, muttering, "Maybe I'll just sit here for a few minutes."

Carl wrapped his arm around her, holding her as she scooted closer to him, seeking his warmth. The first thing that he notified was that she was still shaking, and then he felt the coolness of her jacket. _She'd be warmer if it was unzipped,_ he thought. _Share body heat or whatever they do in the movies_. "Hey," Carl whispered. "You'd be warmer if you'd unzip your jacket. Share body heat."

"Ooh, is that a promise, Grimes?" Clary joked.

"Eh, maybe later."

"Look at you, getting bold. I like it."

Clary silently unzipped her jacket, maneuvering herself closer to Carl until she was pressing herself against his chest. She slid an arm around him as she rested her head on his shoulder, and Carl pulled the blanket tighter around them in hopes to keep more heat in. "Are you sure you want to share this with me?" Clary whispered.

"Hey, it's my turn to take care of you," he replied, looking down at her. "You're a person, too. Start treating yourself like one. You have needs, Clary. It's okay to have them."

Carl rested his hand on her back, and Clary stiffened. He pulled his hand away, muttering, "Sorry."

In response, Clary wormed her way closer to him, still trying to warm up. "Can I?" Carl asked.

Clary gave a nod, and Carl wrapped his other arm around her, holding her a bit tighter. He gently rubbed his hand up and down her back, then brushed her hair out of her face. He noticed how she leaned into his touch, smiling softly. "Better?" he inquired.

"Much," she replied. It was like in that position that the two fell asleep, and it was in that position that the group found them the next morning. Maggie could be seen handing Glenn a roll of starbursts she found, the prize of the bet they placed. Glenn said that before winter was over, they'd find the two asleep, curled up right beside each other, while Maggie argued it'd be spring before it happened. _Oh, yeah,_ Glenn thought to himself. _They'll be together soon._


	8. Lee

**Season 2-3:**

 **Lee**

"What're you lookin' at?" Daryl inquires. I look over my shoulder to find him standing behind me, then back down at the map of Savannah below me. "Clary?"

"Just… just a map," I say softly.

"Clary, honey, are you okay?" Lori asks from where she sits on the couch beside Carol, one hand on her bulging belly. Hershel says that she's due soon, within the next two to three weeks. "You've been quieter than usual since we neared Savannah."

I don't reply, instead still concentrating on the map. Finally, I find the Marsh House. We're on the outskirts of Savannah, clear across town from it. I can make it, though. _You can do it, Dix. You can cross the city by yourself._ I decide my route, nodding to myself as I memorize it. I grab my gun, getting my gear together.

"Clary?" Carol questions. "What're you doing?"

"I've got business I gotta take care of," I reply stoically.

"What kind of business?" Beth inquires.

"Not yours," I mutter.

"Clary," Lori scolds.

"You ain't my momma. You don't get to yell at me."

"Clary," Carl echoes, crossing his arms. "Don't talk to my mom that way. Or to Beth."

"I know, I'm sorry," I say, tightening my holster around my thigh. "I'm just a little on edge. Being this close to Savannah, knowing the shit that went down here. I'm strung out. I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Lori says.

"It's alright, I understand," Beth says. She gives me a small smile, which fades as she adds, "It might not be any of my business, but what _did_ go down in Savannah?"

"Some pretty heavy shit," I say. "I didn't see it. I wasn't there for it, but Clem… Clementine told me what happened that night."

"Clementine?" Carl asks. "You mean that little girl? What happened?"

I shake my head. "I'd rather not talk 'bout it."

"So what're you talking care of?"

"Lee," I say, straightening as I puts my crossbow on my shoulder. "I've gotta take care of Lee, okay? Clementine told me where he is. I'm gonna… I've just… I gotta go."

"Give me a second to get my stuff," Glenn says. "I'll come with you."

"No. Just me. It _has_ to be me."

"Heading into a city? _By yourself?_ Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I've done it before. So have you. I'll be back by dark, okay?" I start out the door. "I'll be okay."

* * *

To be honest, I wasn't planning on pretending to be Batman today, but it happened anyway.

A light breeze blows my hair as I stand on a rooftop, looking across the city. Thunder rumbles in the dark clouds overhead, but it's not raining. Not yet, at least. In the distance, I can see a hospital. Just beyond that, the waterfront. That's where I need to get to, past the hospital but not quite to the waterfront. I strap my crossbow across my chest, then make sure to strap my gun into my holster. The last fucking thing I want is to lose my gun while I'm booking it across this walker infested city. I still don't know how in the holy hell Clementine got out, shaken as she was after Lee's death.

"Alright, you got it," I say to myself, stretching. I jump up and down, loosening up. "You got this. It's parkour time, motherfucker."

I take off, jumping from the edge of the building to the roof of the next one over. I don't stop moving, not until I reach the building across from the Marsh House. I take a minute to catch my breath, my hands on my knees as I watch the street below. The street is mostly clear, save for a few stragglers. They'll be no problem to take out. I spot my target down the street, an abandoned store. "Eosé Jewelry Store," I read. "That's gotta be it. It's the only jewelry store 'round here."

I climb down from the rooftop, keeping my back pressed against the wall as I near the edge of the alleyway. I draw my knife, looking down at the broken convex mirror to see out into the street. I see something moving, something that's not a walker. I keep my knife in one hand, drawing my gun with the other. I spin, raising my gun as I step out of the alley. "Who the fuck are you?" I demand.

The person in the orange hoodie turns to face me, pulling down the hood to reveal blonde hair. She takes off her mask, raising the ice pick in her hand. "Who are you?"

"I asked you first. Now answer!"

"Name's Molly."

"Dixon. Clary Dixon."

"No shit. Clementine mentioned you," Molly tells me. "Oh, shit! Look out!"

I turn just as a walker appears behind me, dropping my gun as I throw up a hand to push it back. I kick its legs out, and it falls on its back. I drive my knife into its head, grabbing my gun and putting it in my holster. I turn back to find Molly taking off down the street, taking out any walkers in her way. "Molly!"

She kicks a walker to the ground, killing it, before turning back to me. I run up to her, whispering, "How do you know Clementine?"

"I met her when she was in the city with the others," Molly tells me. "Left the next morning. I'm not a people person."

"So… you're not with Omid, Christa, and Clem? You haven't seen her since?"

"No, why? And what about the others? What's his name, her dad? Er, adopted dad? The college kid?"

"Lee's dead. I ain't got a clue 'bout the college kid. Don't even know who you're talkin' 'bout."

"What 'bout the depressed dude with the mustache?"

"I'm guessin' you mean Kenny?"

"Sounds about right."

"Probably dead. The only people I saw were Omid, Christa, and Clem. Those are the only people Clem said were with her." I suddenly remember everyone that I didn't see with Clementine. Katjaa, Duck, Lilly, Carley, Larry. God, all of her people, except for the two that took her in. "My god, she lost her entire group."

"Look, I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get out of this damn street," Molly hisses. "The geeks are gonna be starting to notice us soon."

"Go," I tell her. "I've got business to take care of." I look up at Molly as she turns to run off. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Nice meetin' you. And cool ice pick."

"Nice meeting you. Nice pun. Cool crossbow."

Molly scrambles up a ladder, taking off along rooftops as she returns to wherever it is she calls home. On the other hand, I start down the street, knife in hand, as I search for an entrance to Eosé Jewelry Store. When I finally find one, I have to brace myself. I don't want to see Lee dead, but I have to. I have to see his body because I have to be the one to end it.

Just like Clementine said, I find a walker handcuffed to a radiator in the jewelry store. He's not moving, but I can see that no one has put him down yet. "Oh, Lee," I say softly. "Oh, I'm sorry." He stirs at my words, reaching up towards me with what remains of his left arm. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

I slowly draw my knife, stepping towards Lee. I reach around him, closing my eyes as I put my knife through the back of his head. I toss it aside when he slumps against me, finally at rest. I wrap an arm around Lee, holding him. "Lee," I whisper. "Rest now. You didn't deserve this. It's alright, it's all over."

I release him, pushing myself back until my back hits the wall opposite from him. "I saw her again," I tell Lee's body. "Clementine. She's still with Omid and Christa. Your girl kicks ass, Lee. You raised her good. And I know you weren't her real dad, and I know who you are, Lee Everett… but you did good by that little girl." I wipe my eyes. "God, please don't let this be real. Please, don't really be dead, Lee. Clementine needed you. She still needs you, even if she is a little tough ass."

I get to my feet, standing over Lee. I look down at the dead walker near him wearing a security guard uniform. I kneel, digging in its pockets as I try to find the keys for the handcuffs, retrieving my knife at the same time. When I find the keys, I kneel next to Lee, unlocking the handcuff around his wrist. "You started this in handcuffs and ended it the same way, huh?" I question, shaking my head. "Oh, you didn't deserve any of this." I sigh. "I shoulda said goodbye when I had the chance."

I get up, starting to walk out through the office exit. I pause, turning to look back at Lee. "Goodbye, Lee Everett."


	9. Stars

**Season 3:**

 **Stars**

"He ain't a Judas," Daryl argued, looking down at his younger sister as they stood by the door that led to the roof. It was the place they went when they wanted to talk without anyone else listening.

"You don't know that, Daryl," Clary snapped back in reply. "You can't."

"I know what I said, Clary, and I'll stand behind it."

"Even if it costs you your life, Daryl? Will you stand behind him then? Will you stand behind him when I'm fightin' for my life 'cause he led the Governor and their buddies here?"

"Clary, how many times do I have to tell you? Merle's on our side!"

Clary paused, sighing softly before asking, "' _Et tu, Brute?'"_

"What?"

"It means 'And you, Brutus?' It's what Julius Caesar said before Brutus stabbed him in the back. Both literally and figuratively."

"Merle is not a Judas. He's not a Brutus. He's on _our_ side. So let it _fucking go."_

With that, Daryl turned and walked away, leaving his sister alone. She scoffed and shook her head at his receding form, stepping out the door onto the roof. As always, Clary was amazed by the beauty of the night sky. She stood in the middle of the roof, staring up at the stars that filled the darkness. She hadn't been planning on staying up there, so she hadn't grabbed her jacket, and she was starting to regret it. It was getting chilly again, so she slid her hands into the pockets of her jeans to retain some warmth. The same pocket that Merle slipped his switchblade into a few nights prior.

Clary hated it. She hated everything about what happened that night and the days since. It wasn't all bad, of course. They were back home with their family. Clary was back with Carl. The two had been able to sneak off a couple of times together, just the two of them. It was never for more than ten minutes, though, as Rick started to freak out if he hadn't seen Carl in more than ten minutes ever since Lori died. Except when he was on watch. When Rick was on watch, nothing else mattered. It was as if he completely forgot he wasn't alone, that his children were still alive, even if his wife was gone. That was when Clary would look out for them, something she promised Lori she'd do in the days on the farm. She swore to Lori that she'd look out for Carl and the baby, because they both knew that Lori had a fifty-fifty chance of surviving the birth at best. And then Lori was dead, leaving Carl half-orphaned. If Judith really was Shane's daughter, like a few of them thought, then it left the newborn an orphan. "In _Zombieland_ , we're all orphans," Clary muttered to herself as she climbed up onto the edge of the roof, looking out at the forest in the distance. "I never thought I'd be living that damn movie."

She hated that, too. Living in this world, doing things that no one should have to do. The fact that people like the Governor could be in charge of groups, doing the things he did. The fact that she trained herself to kill with her bare hands. Actually, it was to kill with anything she could find because anything can be a weapon if you try hard enough. Clary pulled her hands out of her pockets, rubbing them together, before putting them back in. She almost wished that Merle hadn't taken the switchblade back, because she wasn't armed at all at the moment. She needed something on her—a knife, a gun, whatever—because she felt naked and unprotected without one. She felt like she didn't have a fighting chance, even though she knew it wasn't true.

 _Merle gave you a fighting chance, and you know it._

"That doesn't mean I want to admit it," she muttered in reply to her thought. Merle did too much to her for him to be forgiven just because he gave her a weapon. But he did, and he might've saved her life by doing so. Clary owed him, and she hated owing people. Especially the people she was already on bad terms with. She turned away from the door as she paced the rooftop, singing what she remembered from a musical.

" _And my thoughts fly apart  
_ _Can this man be believed?  
_ _Shall his sins be forgiven?  
_ _Shall his crimes be reprieved?_

 _And must I now begin to doubt,  
_ _Who never doubted all these years?  
_ _My heart is stone and still it trembles  
_ _The world I have known is lost in shadow.  
_ _Is he from heaven or from hell?  
_ _And does he know  
_ _That granting me my life today  
_ _This man has killed me even so?"_

Unbeknownst to Clary, she had an audience. Carl stood in the doorway, having gone looking for her and then heard her voice. He had been standing there for a few lines, watching. Then, he suddenly realized what song she was singing, having recognized it from the production his high school did of _Les Misérables_. He made his way forward, hoping to reach her before the final line.

" _I am reaching, but I fall  
_ _And the stars are black and cold  
_ _As I stare into the void  
_ _Of a world that cannot hold  
_ _I'll escape now from this world  
_ _From the world—"_

Clary wouldn't lie. When Carl grabbed her arm, pulling her down, it scared the shit out of her. As Carl pulled her away from the edge, he cried, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Carl?" Clary questioned. "The hell are you doing up here?"

"I was looking for you! What were you thinking?!"

"What do you mean?"

"You were on the edge of the roof and singing 'Javert's Suicide!'" he cried. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"I wasn't going to jump, Carl. A fall from this height wouldn't kill you. And if I was going to kill myself, I wouldn't jump. But I'm not."

"Either way, get down," Carl said, pulling her down with him into a crouching position. "The Governor could have snipers out there."

"You worry too much," Clary said, getting to her feet. "I was just looking." She climbed back up. "It's nice up here. You can see the stars."

"Please, Clary, get down," Carl begged.

She turned around, looking down at him, saying, "Relax, Carl. Every—"

Carl's heart skipped a beat as a gun suddenly fired, and the next thing he knew, Clary was falling. He rushed towards her, but luckily, she was falling onto the roof and not off of it. He didn't reach her before she hit, landing on her side. He knelt next to her, turning her onto her side. Carl's blue eyes widened as he saw the gash and blood on her cheek, crying, "Clary!"

She didn't respond, out cold. Clary didn't even stir when Carl lifted her, running back inside as quickly as he could so the sniper didn't shoot him, too. "Help!" Carl yelled. "Someone get help!"

The entire group was alert at Carl's cry, and Daryl took charge. He barked to Beth, "Get Hershel!"

She took off, searching for her father. The rest of the group either rushed to meet Carl or followed Beth. Daryl, who had passed Carl on his way back to the common room, started towards him, worried over the two teenagers. It didn't help when he saw Clary, limp, in Carl's arms, her face bloodied. "Clary!" Daryl cried, rushing to her. To Carl, he barked, "What the fuck happened?"

"Sniper," Carl said as Daryl took the girl from him. "I tried to get her down, tried to warn her. She wouldn't listen to me."

Maggie arrived before her father, instructing Daryl to lie Clary on one of the tables. Glenn lingered behind his girlfriend, eyes shining with tears as he saw Clary. Hershel arrived then, inquiring, "What happened?"

"She was shot," Maggie said. "Sniper. I don't think it's serious, but she's unconscious."

Hershel hobbled over to Clary, shooing the hovering Daryl away. Glenn took off to get Rick, who was, as usual, on watch. Hershel gently wiped the blood away from her cheek, studying the graze. "Did she hit her head when she fell?" Hershel inquired.

"Uh, I think so," Carl answered. "I tried to catch her, but I couldn't move fast enough."

"That'd be why she's unconscious," Hershel said. "She just hit her head. And it's nothing more than a graze. As long as it's kept clean, she'll be okay." Hershel looked up at the middle Dixon. "Your sister's perfectly fine."

Daryl sighed, sharing a look of relief with the young Grimes boy. Glenn and Rick ran in, skidding to a halt in the common room. "Is she okay?" Rick demanded.

"I just got done telling Daryl," Hershel said, "she's perfectly fine. Just has to heal."

"It's too dangerous to go outside anymore," Rick decided. "We all have to stay in here, keep our heads down. We'll get an opportunity. We just have to wait. It'll come to us."


	10. DJ Merle

**Season 3:**

 **DJ Merle**

I make sure the radio is up loud enough to draw any nearby walkers before I turn it on. Immediately, a song starts playing.

" _Bo bo bo bo bo bo bon bonfire"_

"What the fuck is this?" I blurt, looking down at the radio. I pop the CD out, reading it. "What the fuck is Knife Party?" I toss it aside, skipping to the second CD in the radio. "Okay, this guy seriously needs to decide what genre he likes."

" _Hey, hey mama said the way you move  
_ _Gon' make you sweat, gon' make you groove"_

I raise my bottle of whiskey as Led Zeppelin's "Black Dog" continues. "This one's for you, baby sis. To the Metallica and Led Zeppelin girl. May your metals always be lica, your zeppelins always be led, and your leppards always be def."

And no one's around to hear my toast but the dead and the soon to be.

Five minutes later, "Black Dog" ends and "Rock And Roll" begins. By now, walkers have crowded around my stolen car, clawing at the windows. I look over at one by my window as it opens and closes its mouth, its face pressed up against the glass. From inside, I put my bottle up to the glass. I chuckle, as it looks like the walker is drinking from my bottle, before I take another sip from what is probably my last drink. Here I sit, sharing my last bottle of booze, my last moments, with the dead.

Well, it's not like I won't be joining them soon.


	11. Twister

**Season 3-4:**

 **Twister**

It was Clary's yell that made Glenn wander into the common room of Cell Block C. _"RICK, GET YOUR ASS OUT OF MY FACE!"_

"What the hell?" Glenn muttered in confusion. He silently walked into the cell block to see the group circled around a white mat on the floor, Hershel sitting at one of the nearby tables with a piece of cardboard in his hand. Upon closer inspection, Glenn realized that Rick and Clary were on top of a _Twister_ mat, Hershel holding the spinner in his hands. "Right foot, yellow," he called out.

Rick squatted to put his foot on the colored spot, while Clary straightened her legs, putting her foot below her and sticking her ass up in the air. Glenn, seeing a perfect opportunity, started singing loudly, "I like big butts and I cannot lie!"

Everyone immediately turned to Glenn, and Clary glanced over her shoulder at him, grinning. "You other brothers can't deny!"

"SHIT!" Rick shouted, cutting off Carl as he was about to continue the song. Rick's legs giving out as he fell to the ground. Clary straightened, laughing, "Yes!"

Beth, who sat next to her father with a notebook in her hand, called out, "Carl versus Maggie!"

"Can you put me down?" Glenn asked, walking over to look at the tablet over his sister-in-law's shoulder.

"Against Sasha?" Beth questioned, and Glenn nodded his approval. She glanced up at him. "You missed Daryl and Michonne."

"I'm regretting it already," he replied, taking a seat next to her.

"Left foot, green," Hershel announced. Carl and Maggie stepped onto the mat as the veterinarian spun again. "Right hand, blue."

Carl bent over, while Maggie squatted, reaching underneath him. Clary attempted to sneak a look at her boyfriend's ass, and Michonne nudged her shoulder, chuckling softly. Clary blushed, hiding her red face behind her brother's arm. "Who won the first round?" Glenn inquired as Maggie and Carl put their left hand on red.

"Michonne. Daryl pushed her."

He glanced at her. " _Daryl?_ He _pushed_ Michonne? He play fights with Clary, but he wouldn't do anything like that."

"'Accidentally.' He was starting to fall and took her with him." Beth looked back at the two on the mat, and said, "Ooh, looks like Carl's gonna fall."

At that point, both Carl and Maggie were pretty twisted up. Maggie was somehow leaning over Carl, and he was in a Spiderman-like pose beneath her, attempting to reach every color. "Left foot, red," Hershel called.

Carl turned, regaining his balance. He was staying up. Maggie, however, was having a bit of trouble making her left foot go from green to red. "Five, four," the group began counting down. "Three, two, o—"

Maggie managed to get her foot on at the last possible second, though her arms were starting to tremble at her awkward position. "Left foot in the air," Hershel announced.

Carl's foot went up, but Maggie fell over as soon her foot left the mat. Carl, unable to see what was going on, asked, "What happened?"

"You won," Maggie told him. "Who's next?"

"Carol and I," Beth answered, putting her notebook down after crossing out her sister's name. The two stood on opposite sides of the mat, Hershel calling out to put their left foot on yellow first. Their round was a quick one, with Carol's butt hitting the ground after the sixth spin. Beth reclaimed her spot, crossing out the older woman's name. "Sasha, you're up against Glenn."

"Just so you know," Glenn warned Sasha as they stepped up to the mat, "I used to play this all the time with my sisters."

"Oh, so you're a pro?" Sasha questioned, then grinned wickedly. "So am I."

"I'll bet a week's worth of chores on Glenn!" Tyreese called.

Sasha turned around, raising her hands in disbelief as she looked at her brother. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I'll take you up on that," Maggie said, then sent a grin at Glenn. "If Sasha wins, you have to do my chores for the next week."

"If Glenn wins, you have my chores for the next week," Tyreese said. The two shook hands, sealing their deal.

"Right hand, red!" Hershel called, starting the round. Everyone watched as the two became tangled up, but they showed that they were pros. Sasha almost fell a few times, but she regained her balance. Finally, Hershel called, "Left foot, blue!"

"Oh, no," Sasha said. Glenn was in the perfect position, and there was no way he could fall. Sasha, on the other hand, had made a few mistakes, and she now had to reach across the mat to put her left foot on a blue circle. She stretched, but it wasn't enough. The group began to count down, and even though Sasha tried as hard as she could, she couldn't get it. After she knew she lost, Sasha fell to the ground, while Glenn stayed in his spot. Sasha sighed, "I surrender the title of Twister Pro."

Beth put the end of her pen to her lips, thinking, before writing down names. "Alright!" she called. "Phase two! Up first, Michonne and Carl!"

The two stepped up to the mat, staring across it at each other. "Can we get, like, a gong or something in here?" Clary asked. "I feel like we need one for Twister tournaments."

"I've got wooden spoons and a metal table," Carol offered. "We could do a drum roll?"

"Wouldn't be the same," Clary sighed.

"Note to everyone on the run team," Glenn called as he feigned writing on a clipboard, "Clary wants a gong."

Clary chuckled, hitting Glenn's arm. "Shut it, you lil shit."

"Right foot, yellow," Hershel called, and the two stepped onto the mat. "Right hand, green."

There was a repeat of Carl's first round, where he was in a Spiderman pose again. At the next round, Michonne pulled off the Black Widow pose from _Iron Man 2_ , minus her knee on the ground _._ It got close, though. Close enough that the group was craning their necks to see if her knee was touching the ground. Then, both reached for the same spot, but Carl got it first. Michonne tried to reach over Carl's hand, but she couldn't reach it. She leaned forward just a bit more, lost her balance, and fell, taking Carl with her. Michonne groaned, getting to her feet. Carl rolled off the mat, as he was near the edge, and landed at Clary's feet. "Hey, babe," he said with a grin. "Heard you were looking at my ass earlier."

"Carl!" Rick scolded. He was having trouble sounding stern, but he was having more trouble trying not to grin.

"ASS!" Carl shouted in reply, causing the others to crack up. Carol put her hands over Judith's ears, hissing, "There are young ones!"

"She can't even talk!" Daryl cried as Carl got to his feet. To Rick, Daryl barked, "Ass!"

"Shut up!" Rick called back. "You're worse than a fucking child!"

Clary put her hands over Carl's ear with a gasp, saying, "Richard, there are little ears."

"Clary, I'm three months younger than you," Carl said.

"And don't call me Richard!" Rick added.

Beth was still laughing as she said, "Glenn and I are up next."

"Maggie, pick your poison," Glenn said, winking at her. "Your sister or your husband."

"I already lost once," Maggie said.

"Technically twice. The bet _and_ against Carl."

Maggie turned to Hershel. "Dad, just spin. Please."

"Left hand in the air," Hershel said.

Their round was uneventful, and it wasn't long before Beth fell. This left three people still playing: Clary, Carl, and Glenn. Beth retook her seat next to her father, crossing her name off. She said, "Okay, the prison's favorite couple is up next. Dixon, Grimes, get up there." Rick and Daryl look at each other before shrugging stepping forward, much to the prison's amusement. "The _other_ Dixon and Grimes."

"Bethie, I don't know how Judy and Merle are going to play when Judy's a baby and Merle's dead," Clary said.

Beth put her notebook down, taking Clary and Carl and pushing them to the mat, and pulling Rick and Daryl back. "Love you, babe," Rick said.

Daryl wrapped an arm around his best friend's shoulders. "I know you do."

Hershel shook his head at their antics, calling, "Left hand, red."

" _I feel my soul on fire!"_ Clary sang.

" _Black!"_ Carl sang, lifting his head at the words from _Les Misérables_.

Clary leaned forward, giving Carl a quick peck. " _My world if he's not there!"_

That earned them 'aww's from the group, as Carl continued, " _Red!"_

" _It's the color of desire!"_

" _Black!"_

" _It's the color of despair!"_

There was a round of applause before they continued with the game. "Right hand, blue!" Hershel called, the two did it. "Ooh, left foot in the air." Carl sighed softly, and they put their left foot in the air. "Right foot, blue."

The two did a little jump, not putting their left feet down as they got their right feet on blue. Hershel spun again, eyes widening when he saw what it landed on. He and Beth looked at each other, his daughter breathing, "Oh my god."

"What?" Glenn asked.

Hershel called, "Right foot in the air."

Clary and Carl looked at each other, then back to Hershel. "Hershel, spin again," Clary said. "It's not fair. I _can_ do a handstand."

"Hey, I can do a handstand," Carl objected.

Clary paused, shrugged, then kicked up until she was in a handstand. Michonne watched, impressed, and decided that she had found her new protégé. Carl tried to mimic Clary, struggling to get up. For a moment, he did, both of the two doing handstands, until Carl started to teeter. Carefully, Clary pushed one leg out until it rested on Carl's, keeping him up. "Hershel," Carl grunted, unsure of how long he could hold himself up. "Spin already."

Clary, on the other hand, was having no problem with her handstand, even with her helping Carl. "Right foot, blue," Hershel said.

Carl sighed in relief, tipping forwards until his right foot hit the mat, not letting his left foot touch. Clary, on the other hand, ran into some difficulty, as Carl was taking up the only blue spaces in front of her. "Shit," she said. "Oh, this game is gonna kill me."

She leaned backwards, the group gasping as they realized she was trying to do a backbend. And she did it, too. Her right foot hit the blue, her left foot still in the air. "Hershel! Go!"

"Right foot, yellow." The two put their right feet on yellow, Clary looking like she was halfway through a cartwheel. "Right hand, green."

Hershel kept on calling, neither of the two falling yet. Somehow, they ended up tangled together, Clary pinned underneath Carl, their chests barely brushing. "So," Clary started as they both reached to put a hand on red, "you come here often?"

"Clary, there's about a million other pick-up lines you could've used," Carl said.

"Right hand in the air," Hershel called.

Clary and Carl both lifted their right hands from the mat, both wobbling. Without a word spoken between them, they each wrapped their right arm around the other, using their left arms to balance. Murmurs went through the group, Sasha asking, "Can they do that?"

"I don't think there's anything in the rules against it," Beth said.

"Left hand in the air," Hershel announced.

"That means we have to stand up?" Clary questioned, tilting her head back to look at Hershel, who nodded. She looked back up at Carl. "Alright, ready, Cowboy? We gotta push up together so we don't fall. Ready? One, two, three!"

The two pushed up at the same time, Carl pulling Clary with him as they stood, still pressed together. Carl lost his balance, falling backwards, and he took Clary with him. They landed on the floor with a thud, still tangled together, laughing. "We've got to do this again sometime," Carl said.

Clary nodded in agreement, rolling off of Carl. "It's the final round," Beth said. "Clary and Glenn."

"Let's go, Short Round," Clary said, holding up a hand as Glenn stepped on the mat.

Glenn took her hand, pulling her to her feet. "I'm gonna kick your ass, Willie Scott."

"Please, we all know I'm Indy. Carl's Willie Scott." The group chuckled as Carl stepped off the mat, shaking his head. "Ready, Rhee?"

"Let's do it, Dixon," he replied.

"Right hand, green," Hershel called, and so it began. "Left foot, yellow."

It went on, lasting even longer than Carl and Clary's round. The two had proved that they should not be challenged when it came to Twister, and it was just a matter of time until they knew who was the true professional. Clary had long since stopped making witty comments, instead quiet and focused, determined to win. Glenn was at one end of the mat, nearly leaning back against Clary, who was in the middle. Their right hands and feet were on red, their left hands on blue, and their left feet on green.

"Left hand, green!" Hershel called. Glenn reached it, leaning backwards to make Clary reach for a green spot under him. The audience quickly told Clary she wasn't on, and she moved her hand, reaching it. "Right foot, green!"

"It's sudden death," Michonne said excitedly, seeing the two were struggling to reach it. Glenn got his foot on, between their left feet, leaning back until on Clary. She tried to reach her right foot around, but fell backwards with a yell. "Glenn sat on me!"

The group laughed as Glenn got to his feet, holding out a hand to help Clary up. She took it, and they shook hands as Clary said, "Alright, I'll admit defeat. Glenn Rhee, you win." Clary turned and walked off the mat, then paused. She looked over her shoulder at him, grinning. "This time. I'll be back."

Glenn grinned. "I look forward to it."


	12. 35 Miles Out

**Season 3 - 4:**

 **35 Miles Out**

 **~Clary~**

"Please tell me you're not leaving."

I look up at the sound of Carl's voice from where I kneel beside my bed, packing my backpack. "I'm, uh, I'm going out," I say, pulling my jacket on. "Outside the fences."

"You're leaving," Carl says, watching as I pull on the gloves I wear to keep my hands from freezing when I'm on my motorcycle. "For good?"

"Carl, what the hell! Why would I leave for good? I've got too much here."

"So, you're not leaving?"

I bite my lip, sighing. I don't know if I should tell him or not. "I'm going to tell the others I'm going on a run."

"But you're not going on a run," Carl guesses.

"No. I got some shit I gotta take care of."

"You're not thinking of going after _him_ , are you?" I remain silent. "Oh my god, Clary! You're gonna get yourself killed like Merle!"

"I'm looking for leads. I'll say I'll be gone for two days on a run. Please, Carl, don't tell them anything."

"What am I supposed to do if you don't come back?" Carl questions, taking my hands. "I can't live knowing what really happened to you and not being able to tell them where you really were."

"If I'm not back in a week, then tell them. You give me seven days. If I find something, I'll be back." I put my bag on my shoulder, pushing around him. "I'll need the weapons we have here to go after him."

"Wait," Carl says softly, lightly grasping my arm before I can go. "Just one second."

"I really need to get going," I say, but I wait.

Carl wraps his arms around me, and it takes me a moment, but I reciprocate the action. "Come back," Carl whispers. "Please. I don't want to lose you, too."

"I'll do my best," I promise, kissing his cheek.

"No, no good luck kiss on the cheek this time," Carl says, looking down at me. "I want a real kiss. I mean, this could be the last time I see you."

I tilt my head up, pressing my lips to his. I kiss him like I mean it, wrapping my arms around his neck because Carl's right; this could be the last time I see him. We're both breathless when we pull away, Carl resting his forehead against mine. In that moment, I almost say it. I almost tell him I love him, but I chicken out. "You know, I never noticed it before," I whisper, "but you have little flecks of gold in your eyes."

"Did you know yours look grey in the moonlight?" Carl questions. "Like, more than usual."

"Oh, shit, that's right," I say. "I gotta get goin' if I wanna make it there before dark."

"Let me walk you out?" Carl requests.

I nod for him to lead the way, searching for Daryl and Glenn on our way. I find the two together where we park our cars, Daryl teaching Glenn more about cars than just how to deal with corroded points in an RV. "Hey," I say, walking over to the two. "You need anything while I'm out? Spare parts, motor oil?" I take in the oil on Glenn's cheek and Daryl's nose. "Oil rags?"

"You think you're hilarious, don't you?" Daryl questions.

"You're going on a run?" Glenn asks. "By yourself?"

"Well, I did say while _I_ was out," I answer.

"Be careful," he warns. "It'll be dark soon."

"How long are you staying out there?" Daryl inquires.

"I'll be back in two days," I tell them. "And I'll be careful. When am I not?"

"I don't know, Miss Sneaking Into Woodbury To Off The Governor By _Herself_ , when _have_ you _not_ been careful?"

"Okay, so I _might_ see your point," I say, scratching the back of my head. "I can take care of myself, though. I've gotta learn to save myself sometime."

"I think you're already past that stage," Glenn says with a chuckle. "Saving our asses all those times? Yeah, you've already learned to save yourself."

"See, Daryl?" I ask. "You don't have to worry. I'll be fine. And if I'm still not back in a week, then come looking for me. I should be back in two, but I might get a little preoccupied."

Daryl wipes his hands off on a nearby rag, tossing it to Glenn. "I'll walk you down."

"Bon voyage," Glenn says as I put my crossbow on my motorcycle. He rushes over, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as he kisses my cheek. "Be back soon."

"You got it," I reply. "And stay safe while I'm gone."

"You got it," Glenn echoes.

As I pass Carl, pushing my motorcycle down to the gate, I say, "That goes for you, too."

"Only if you're careful out there," he replies. I nod once, because I know he's telling me to watch out for more than walkers if I'm going after the Governor.

"Ready?" Daryl questions. I nod once, and we start down the path to the main gate together. We're halfway down before Daryl breaks the silence. "Why on your own?"

"Because one day, I will be," I answer. "I mean, I already have. When we were separated before Atlanta, I didn't stop running until I hit Macon."

"That was a few hours, not a few days," Daryl retorts, glancing over at me. "You're going out on your own, no one to watch your back, and you're all I have left. That's a recipe for disaster."

"You have Carol, the others."

"They're not _you_. Yeah, they're family, but they ain't flesh and blood and sweat and tears like you."

"I'll come back, Daryl. I swear. You're not losing me."

"They why does it feel like I am?"

At that, I stop, putting my kickstand down. I walk around the other side of my bike, wrapping Daryl in a hug, pressing my cheek into his chest. "You're not gonna lose me. I've got too much back here for me not to come back."

Daryl hugs me back for a minute before releasing me, getting ready to open the gates. From where Rick tends to his crops, he calls a goodbye. I wave as I climb on my motorcycle, the engine roaring to life. I nod once to Daryl, and he opens the gates. I'm out before the walkers at our fences even realize they're opening, and I don't look back as I leave the prison behind.

* * *

Thirty-five miles.

That's how far it is from the prison to Hershel's farm. A total of thirty-five miles. It takes me a little over an hour to get to my destination. The sun's starting the set, the sky slowly turning pink and orange. I drive up the familiar dirt lane, stopping in front of the house, just like Daryl and I did over a year ago on his motorcycle. Now, it's just me, by myself on my own motorcycle, no longer leading a caravan of survivors. Most of those people are no longer survivors, instead buried in graves with nothing but a wooden cross to mark it as theirs. I pause, leaning back against my bike as I realize there's only six of us from the original group, the one from Atlanta, left. Everyone else, they came after. "We started out with more," I say to myself. "The people we've gained, they don't make up for what we've lost. I love 'em with everything I have, but they're not Lori, Sophia…"

I sigh as I stare up at the old farmhouse. It hasn't changed all that much since we left. Some of the railing on the wrap around porch has been torn down. Probably by scavengers, looking for firewood for the night. "Alright, you know what you gotta do," I sigh, getting up.

I make my way through the house, checking each room for walkers or people. I check the upper floor first, pausing in each of the rooms as I remember them. In Beth's room, I spend a minute staring out the window by the window seat. From what was going to be my view of the farm, I can see the field where Shane died. I suck in a breath, looking down at the seat. I notice my duffel bag still there, the one I lost when we evacuated. I kneel, digging in it, and smile when my hand closes around it. I always kept my phone, even after it died and the cell towers went out, because I had pictures of Sam, Sebastian, and Alex on it. It was in my bag when we left, and I've always thought I lost it for good. I tuck it in my jacket pocket before continuing on through the house. I only go in the room where Carl laid when he shot for a split second, not wanting to remember it. I reach Maggie's room, and by her doorframe, I notice lines drawn in marker. Each marking is labeled with Maggie's age, and I lean down as I read them. I smile softly as I run my fingers over them, imaging a six-year-old Maggie with pigtails and her front teeth missing.

I straighten up when I hear voices at the door. Men, at least three. _You've taken more lives, Dixon. This is nothing._ Then, I hear four other voices. Two are women, the other kids. It's a group, not unlike mine. Still, I raise my crossbow as I walk out, barking, "Hands where I can see 'em!"

"Holy shit!" one of the men shout as they all turn to face me, a few raising their guns. I find that the kids I heard are my age or close, and the oldest of the group is barely as old as Daryl.

I raise my gun, aiming it at one of the kids. "Drop the guns and put your hands in the air. Or I start shooting."

Guns are put on the ground and hands are put in the air. "Good," I tell them. "Now, which one of you sorry shits is the leader?" One of guys start forward, and I wave my gun as I say, "Actually, I don't give a shit. What I _do_ give a shit about is what in the holy hell you think you're doing here."

"We lost people," one of the women say. "Our camp was overrun. We just found this place."

"Didn't you see the motorcycle out front?" I snap. "Place's occupied."

"It's only you," a teenger says. He's young, maybe a year younger than me.

"It's not just me," I lie. "I've got a group, a dangerous one. Me, I'm the one that scouts ahead. I find places for us. Me and my best friend, Jesse." _Really, you're thinkin' of Jesse now? It takes you this long._ "It'd be hell for y'all if, even for a second, Jesse thought y'all hurt me." What I said, it's not a lie, not really. Over the winter, I did scout and look for places for us. And I am part of a dangerous group, but it really is just me right now. "Now, I'd suggest you turn tail 'fore our leader gets here. He ain't nearly as forgivin' as I am."

The guy that stepped forward earlier, the leader, lifts his head and questions, "And what would you do if we don't?"

"All it takes is one little scream," I say with a shrug. "And then Jesse would bring our friends and, most importantly, our leader. And you don't want to be here when Heisenberg gets here. He's one scary motherfucker. I'm just glad I'm on his good side."

"You talk a big talk," a second guy says. "I don't think you mean it."

As loudly as I can, I scream, _"Jesse!"_

"Clary!" the familiar voice shouts, sounding like he's outside.

"Run!" the leader barks, choosing to chicken out and run as soon as he knows I'm not bluffing. They run for the porch, and I follow behind them, gun raised. Standing on the path leading up to the house is the drug dealer I never thought I'd see again. He raises his gun, stopping the group. They're trapped between the two of us, obviously terrified. Jesse leans around them, asking, "Yo, you alright, Dix?"

"Yeah," I tell him. "These assholes don't wanna leave our farm. I'm thinkin' it's time to get Heisenberg."

Jesse doesn't falter when I mention the name of his dead friend, instead going along with it. "Sounds damn good to me."

"No, no, it's okay," the leader rushes. "We were just leaving."

"Did I say you could speak, bitch?!" Jesse shouts, waving his gun towards the leader.

"We don't want any trouble!"

"Yo, it's too late!"

The leader turns to me, and I kind of feel sorry for the guy. "Never," I growl, stepping towards him, "let me see your face again. Now go."

Jesse steps aside to allow them all to pass, snapping at the leader, "Pussy bitch."

I smirk as I was them leave the farm, satisfied. Jesse remarks, "You look good, Dixon."

"You look like shit, Pinkman," I return, walking down the steps to meet him. "Where's my hug, bitch?"

Jesse cracks a grin, chuckling as he wraps me in a hug. "Oh, it's so good to see someone from before!"

"Ain't that the truth," I agree. I lean back, looking up at him. "How the hell did you find me?"

"Well, I was in the woods, hunting." I give him a look. "Okay, you got me. _Trying_ to hunt. I heard your motorcycle, went to check it out. Next thing I know, I hear a pretty little Southern accent yelling _my_ name."

"I had no idea you were there," I tell him. "I was bluffing, and then when you answered, oh my god, I think their leader nearly shit himself." Jesse chuckles, and I take his arm, pulling him with me into the house. "C'mon, I'll show you 'round."

"This your hideout?" Jesse inquires.

"No. My group, we were here a while back. Had to leave 'cause of walkers. We're at a prison now." I stop, turning to look at Jesse. "Will you come back with me?"

"I'm on my own out here," Jesse tells me. "That sounds real good. Your brothers there?"

"Just Daryl."

"Merle's dead?" I nod once. "Shit, yo, I'm sorry."

"Merle was an ass. He nearly got me killed. Just don't be sorry."

I lead Jesse into the room Carl was in after he was shot, Jesse lying in the same bed. I take a seat on the bed beside him, leaning back and relaxing. It takes me a few minutes, but I eventually take his hand, just to reassure myself that he's here. We talk through the night about little things, remembering the time before all of this. "Why'd you come out here?" Jesse suddenly asks.

"There's this guy, calls himself the Governor," I tell him. "He's tried to kill us all again and again. He killed Merle, another one of our friends. I've been huntin' him down. I want revenge, and to keep my family safe. That's why I'm out here. To kill the Governor so he doesn't kill mine."

"I hope you find him, then," Jesse tells me."Actually, I'll be glad to help you. Merle was my friend, too. Killing, you've done it?"

"It's not easy," I say. "But yes."

"I know it's not. I've done it, too. Before this."

"You ever gotten people killed? People died 'cause of you?"

Jesse pauses. "My ex-girlfriend, Andrea. It was my fault. These fucking Nazis, and I'm not shitting you, they had the swastikas and everything, they had me. I tried to break out of the pit they had me in, and I almost got away. I made it to the fence and everything. I told them to go ahead, to do it. I thought it was gonna be me. But the next thing I know, we're at Andrea's, and Todd just fuckin' shot her. When Mister White saved me, right before he died, Todd was the only one left. I strangled him with the handcuffs he put me in."

"Damn," I whisper. "You told me 'bout Brock. You never Andrea."

"For a really long time, I couldn't talk about it."

"Do you remember Sam, the one I told you about? For a long time, I couldn't talk about him."

"Sam, your friend?"

"I held on to my best friend while the walkers took him," I say. "I tried to protect a little girl and she ended up as one of 'em. And Carl was shot lookin' for her. That's how we ended up here, until a herd forced us to run. Merle... he's dead. Last thing I ever said to him? 'No one's gonna mourn you.' Told him Daryl and I had a new family, a better family. And I hate myself every day for it. For all of it."

"'Self-hatred, guilt, it accomplishes nothing,'' Jesse says. "That's something I learned in rehab. When I went after Jane."

"Jane?"

"My girlfriend before Andrea. I thought her death was my fault, and then I found out it was Mister White. But we were high, she choked to death. She died right beside me and I didn't even know."

I turn on my side, questioning, "Did you hate yourself for it? For Jane?"

"Like I said, I thought it was my fault. And I _know_ Andrea's on me."

"It wasn't." I lean forward, kissing his cheek. "They weren't your fault, Jesse Pinkman. Do you understand?"

Jesse rests his head again mine. "Yeah, I got it."

"Get some sleep, Jess," I tell him. "I'm gonna take watch."

"You sure?" Jesse asks, lifting his head to look at me as I climb out of bed.

"Yeah. Go to sleep. I'm good." Jesse nods as I walk out of the room. I step onto the porch, crossing my arms as I lean against a section of railing that remains. I remember the conversation I had in this exact spot with Glenn, the night before Daryl and I nearly died while looking for Sophia. I sigh, wondering if it's better for Sophia that she's dead. She wouldn't have lasted long in this world. I turn and walk back inside, stopping in the doorway when I see Jesse is out cold. I smile softly. "There ya go, Jess. You sleep, and I'll keep us safe."

I don't sleep through the night, instead walking around the house yet again. I find little things that we left behind, picking them up for the group when I return. I stand in Beth's room for a long time, staring out the window at the field yet again. I decide that when the sun rises, I'm going to head out there, just to see Shane's body, if it's still there. In the early morning hours, I end up in the room I didn't want to go in; I end up back in the room where Carl nearly died in, where Jesse now sleeps. I lay in the bed, curled up beside Jesse. _God, he's warm. He's a living space heater._ I fall asleep then, with the door to the room locked in case anyone or anything would get into the house.

* * *

When I wake, the first rays of light are beginning to shine through the windows. I push myself up on my elbows, looking around the room as I forget, for a moment, where I am. When I see Jesse beside me, my first thought is that I was either drunk or high the night before and dreamt the apocalypse. That I was with Jesse, had one hell of a night, and crashed next to him.

 _God, I wish that were true._

It all comes crashing back when I take another look around, and I rub my eyes, trying not to remember the deaths that took place here. It doesn't work. It never does. I remember each and every death I've seen, each and every death I've caused, each and every person I've killed. I remember it all, no matter what I do. I pull on my jacket, leaving the house for the day. I don't go to the field at first light like I said I would, instead making my way over to the graves by the barn. The barn that held the little girl I was determined to find, the barn that was almost my final resting place.

 _I would've been a walker._

The sudden thought makes me stop in my tracks, and I sling my crossbow over my shoulder as I change course, heading for the burnt barn. Some of it still stands, even after the fire and the winter. I stop by what used to be the ladder for the hayloft, the one I climbed up the night we returned from town with no intention of climbing back down.

"I would've been a walker," I repeat, knowing that it's true. "Daryl would've found me. He would've had to put me down. Because I didn't destroy my brain."

I turn away from the barn, relieved more than ever that Daryl found me before I could end it. I stop over the graves of the ones we had bodies to bury. I glance towards the farmhouse, at the tree out front. A pile of stones are the only thing that mark it as belonging to Otis, the idiot that shot Carl. "Shane, buddy, I think you did the right thing at that high school," I say, voicing my real opinion of his actions for the first time. "I always knew you killed Otis, but I never said that you did the right thing. He didn't deserve to live, not after that." I look down at the graves of Maggie and Beth's brother, Shawn, and their mother, Annette. "Sorry. Y'all probably liked Otis. But he didn't shoot and nearly kill _your_ boyfriend."

I take a seat at Dale's grave next, sighing softly as I remember the words I've heard spoken twice now. _Sorry, brother_. First, by my uncle, followed by my brother.

"Daryl's teachin' Glenn the shit about cars you didn't," I tell him. "And, uh, Carl and I are a thing. You lost that bet, Dale. Andrea guessed right." I pause, looking down as I remember Andrea's death. "She's gone, too. Andrea. She was bit by her friend. Shot herself 'fore she could turn. Hell of a way to go." I get to my feet. "We've lost a lot since you died, Dale. And Lori had her baby. Her name's Judith. Lori died during childbirth. Carl, he was there. He doesn't talk about it, but he's still real shaken up. We all are. Daryl and I, we found Merle, then we had to put him down a week later. Daryl did it. I wasn't strong enough." I look away, ashamed. "It's funny. I don't miss the bastard at all. I never cared about him, not like Daryl. And yet I couldn't put that walker down." I sigh, looking back at the graves. "Maybe it was always supposed to be Daryl. Everything happens for a reason, huh?"

I look down at Sophia's grave, the one I've been dreading. "I'm so sorry, Sophia," I whisper, falling to my knees. "I should've been there with you. It should've been me. And if it wasn't, I should've been the one to do it. I should've been the one to shoot you. I'm so sorry." I fall forward as I break down, sobbing. "I tried, Soph! I did everything I could! It wasn't enough. Oh, it wasn't even close. You were dead that first night, weren't you? I never had a chance to find you." I push myself up, remembering that I have no one but myself to watch my back, not wanting to end up like Sophia. "Oh, Soph, I shouldn't have left. But this was meant to be. You couldn't hurt a fly. You wouldn't last in this world. Not like me. Not like your momma. Oh, Sophia, your mom's gonna do great things. I can already see it." I get to my feet, sighing as I look up at the sky. "Kid, I don't know where in the hell you ended up, but it's gotta be better than this place. You're better off." I look back down at her grave. "I don't know when, but I'll see you again one day, Soph."

I turn away, unholstering my gun as I make my way out to the field where Shane died, keeping an eye out for walkers. His body is in a different position than I remember it, about twenty feet away from where he fell. Then, the smell hits me, and I immediately holster my gun as I turn to the side to throw up. I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, shaking it off. The stench is worse than anything I've ever smelled, worse than all of the walkers I've ever encountered. I cough as I get closer, looking down. Shane's body is mostly decayed. I don't think any of the walkers ate him, that it was mostly the decomposition that got him. "Oh, Shane," I say softly. "I've never admitted it, but you were a pretty damn good-looking dude. Decomposition is _not_ a good look on you."

I step over him, noticing that there's a gunshot through his head. "What the hell? Rick stabbed you." I run through all of the possible scenarios in my head. "Oh my god. You reanimated. Of course you did. We're all infected."

I kneel next to Shane, glancing down at the twenty-two necklace still around his neck, the one he always wore. "You taught me so much, Walsh," I say. "You taught me how to stay alive in a world where everything tried to kill me. Even if that everything included you. So, thanks for that. And thanks for makin' me realize where my true loyalties lie." I reach forward, unclasping his necklace. I put it on, clasping it behind my neck. "Remind me to stay loyal, okay, Shane?" I wrap my hand around the twenty-two pendant. "I'm with Rick, no matter what. And I'll take care of Carl, Shane. You don't gotta worry 'bout him. And Lori had the baby, even though she didn't survive. Her name's Judith. She's got Lori's eyes. Or yours. A lot of us, we think she's yours. You got a kid, Shane. And she's orphaned 'cause you tried to kill us. It's okay, though. We'll take good care of her, don't you worry. I swear to you, I'll protect her until I take my final breath."

I suddenly get to my feet, taking off for the farm. I search for a shovel, finally finding one by the barn where we kept Randall. I make my way back to the graves, picking a spot beside Sophia's. I start digging, the sun high in the sky by the time I finish. "Now, time for the hard part," I sigh, dropping the shovel beside the empty grave. "Alright, let's go."

It takes me longer than I expected to drag Shane's body from the field to the grave. Finally, I get him in. I drop to the ground beside it, taking a moment to catch my breath. I look up as Jesse approaches, and he asks, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm burying my friend," I answer. As I realize Shane never had a service, a funeral, I get to my feet. He deserves one, especially after being a cop. I don't have twenty-one bullets to waste, but I'll do what I can. Jesse's silent as he stands beside me, knowing how much this means to me.

"So, um, I guess I already said most of what I could've said," I say. "So, let's see. Oh, I know. I still remember that time you taught Carl and I to catch frogs. You kept my mind off of my brothers in Atlanta, made some of my worry go away. That was a good time, and I know Carl still remembers it. We've talked about it, catching frogs at the pond by our prison. Our new home. So I guess you taught me more than just staying alive. You taught me that I can still have a little fun. It's the little things, right?" I raise my gun, firing a shot into the air for him. "It's no twenty-one guns, but I'm tryin'." I take a handful of dirt from the mound, and Jesse mimics me. "Goodbye, Shane."

I throw it on, then pick up the shovel, burying the man that died instead of me.

* * *

On the third day at the farm, the second full day out here, Jesse and I leave it behind. We set off on a search for the Governor, searching towns near Woodbury. We find nothing relating to the Governor that day, just a few cans of food left in an abandoned car. We stay with the car since the sun's starting to go down, planning on spending the night in it. My motorcycle is parked beside it, and I keep the keys in my pocket.

Jesse and I sit on the ground, our backs against the car, as we split a can of Campbell's soup. "Hey, Jess, do you remember how after I met you, I was with my brothers nearly every time they saw you?" I ask.

"Random question, but yeah," Jesse answers. "I remember."

"You wanna know somethin' funny?"

"What?"

I chuckle, shaking my head. "I used to have this crush on you."

"You what?" Jesse asks, grinning.

"Shut up, you little shit," I laugh, elbowing him. "It was stupid! Like a little kid crush."

"Aw, puppy love," Jesse snickers.

"Oh, fuck you, Jesse Pinkman."

"No, it's cute! I always wondered why you loved hanging around so much. And why you were so willing to stick your neck out when I needed an extra hand."

"Well, I liked you, Jess," I tell him. "I still like you. I wouldn't be hangin' 'round with your ugly ass if I didn't."

Jesse punches my arm, both of us chuckling. He puts the empty soup can down, leaning over. I freeze in surprise as he kisses me, his beard tickling my lips. As much as I want to pull back, I lean into the kiss, running my fingers through his hair as I kiss him back.

I always thought that kissing Jesse Pinkman would be rushed, a little rough, and sloppy. It's not. The boy knows what he's doing. He's gentle, brushing my hair back as he moves to my jaw. "Whoa, Jess, no," I say. "Jesse."

He pauses, his lips brushing my cheek as he asks, "Yeah?"

"I, uh, I'm kinda seein' someone."

Instantly, Jesse pulls away. "Yo, I wish you woulda told me. I feel like a total douche now."

"It's okay," I say, laughing softly. "Don't feel bad."

Jesse leans back against the car. "So… girlfriend? Boyfriend? They got a name?"

"Carl," I answer. "His dad was a cop, though."

"Oh, shit," Jesse laughs, high-fiving me. "Hell yeah, that's my girl! Dating a cop's kid! Yo, tell me about him! Is he gonna kick my ass for kissing his girlfriend?"

"No," I say with a laugh, unable to stop my grin. "His name's Carl Grimes. He's sweet and a little bit protective. He cares."

"He sounds nice," Jesse says. "I'm glad you found someone, Dixon."

"I was gonna tell him," I say, looking down at my hands in my lap. "I couldn't. I was gonna tell him I love him, but I couldn't do it. I chickened out. But I do love him. I mean, I think I do." I sigh as I look up, staring up at the stars. "I don't know, man. Carl, he begged me not to go, not to come here. He's scared of losin' me. I get it. I'm scared of losin' him. That's why I came out here."

"So you don't lose him?" Jesse asks, turning to look at me.

I nod. "Can't lose anyone else."

Jesse gets up, then pulls me to my feet. He opens the door to the backseat, shrugging off his jacket. Without a word, he wraps it around my shoulders. "Jess—"

"Shut up," he says. "I could feel you shivering. Get some sleep, alright? I'll take watch."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll watch all night. You don't have to. Think of it as me trying to make it up to you, kissing you."

"You know, Jess, I never said I _didn't_ like it."

Jesse shakes his head at me. "I can't believe you had a crush on me."

As I zip Jesse's jacket around me, I sigh. "I ain't ever gonna live that down."

* * *

The next day, we head for a nearby town, stopping along a road to siphon fuel for my motorcycle. Jesse and I separate near the entrance to the town, agreeing to meet back there within two hours and to come running if we hear anything. I push my motorcycle with my crossbow still on it down the road, nearing an apartment building. In front of the apartment building, I see a truck for Gorbelli parked. I put my kickstand down, trying to open the truck door. From a window on the second floor, a dark haired girl in her twenties leans out, yelling, "Hey!" I look up at the sound of her voice, then raise my gun in her direction. "Get away from there! That's mine!"

"I don't see your name on it!" I shout back.

"That's my dad's truck!"

"I don't give a monkey's left nut!" I go back to the truck, then notice a padlock by the handle. "Oh, for fuck's sake." I raise my gun, firing at the lock.

From a few streets over, I hear Jesse shout, " _DIX!"_

"I'm good!" I reply. I bust the lock in one shot, and the door rolls open. "Ha! Yes!" I turn back to the woman at the window, raising my hands and flipping her off. "Mine now!"

"Joke's on you, jackass!" she yells. "Look inside!"

I do as she says, groaning in defeat as I see that it's completely empty. "Come on! Son of a dick!" I look back at the girl in the window. "You're a fuckin' asshole!"

She smirks, flipping me off. The smile fades as she shouts, "Get down!"

I don't hesitate to dive into the truck when I hear the walker behind me. The girl at the window fires her gun, but misses, and the walker falls into the truck after me. I scramble back, trying to pull my knife out, not wanting to waste a bullet, but it's getting caught in my belt. The walker's getting closer, in the truck with me now, and I run out of room to back up. I curse myself as my back hits the wall, the walker cornering me. I grin, despite the situation, because I've always wanted to use the line. "'Nobody puts Baby in the corner.'"

I fire up at the walker, and it falls on top of me. Then, I see another walker behind it. I miss the first shot as it grabs for the gun, then I pull my hand free and kill it. It falls on top of the other walker, and I start to have trouble breathing because of the weight on my chest. "Hey!" the girl yells. "There's another one! Look out!"

I lift my head as a third walker crawls in the truck, falling on top of the other walkers, trying to reach me. I'm pinned in the corner, with only a couple bullets left, and I can't move to kill the walker on top of me. I suddenly understand how Rick felt when we went eighteen miles out, pinned underneath walkers. Then, I remember how he got out of it. I put my gun in the mouth of the first walker, aiming through the back of its head. I fire to open a hole in its head, firing again until the walker is dead. I manage to push the walkers off of me, chest heaving as I struggle to breathe. I get up, holstering my gun. From the window, I can hear the same girl yelling, "Hey, girl! You alright?"

"Clary!" Jesse shouts, and he skids to a stop at the other end of the truck. "Yo! You alright!"

I climb out, giving them both a thumbs up. To the girl, I call, "Thanks for the heads up!" She nods. "Hey! What's your name?"

"Tara!" she yells.

"Clary!" I give her a wave as I back away, turning back to my motorcycle. "Catch you on the flipside, Tara!" I start to climb on my motorcycle, Jesse behind me; then I turn around, heading back to the apartment. I stand near the building front, calling up, "Tara, oh, Tara, let down your hair!"

She opens the window, leaning out to look down. "Babe, I've got short hair."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "You seen this dude that calls himself the Governor 'round here? I've been lookin' for him. He killed my friend, my brother."

"And you want revenge?" she guesses.

"Damn right."

"I can't help you," Tara tells me. "Wish I could. I'd want revenge if anyone hurt my sister."

"Alright, well, keep an eye out, 'kay? He's dangerous, and I got the scars to prove it."

Tara nods. "You stay safe, too."

* * *

I think both Jesse and I begin to question my sanity on the fifth day, having returned to two of the three places I said I'd never return to.

I don't know what makes me think that the Governor would be in the town that he abandoned, but I return to Woodbury nonetheless, dragging Jesse along. The gate is broken down, debris lying everywhere. The truck that tore down the gate is parked a couple yards in, and we continue past it, hiding my motorcycle in an alleyway. Jesse and I duck into a nearby building, searching for any supplies my group might've missed when we took in the people of Woodbury. I turn as I hear a window breaking, drawing my gun as I make my way towards it. I open a door into the front room, only to jump back as I see flames. "Oh, shit! Jess!"

Jesse appears behind me, and we get the hell out of the burning building. We keep our guns drawn because I know we're not alone in Woodbury.

 _"He's here,"_ I whisper as I realize it. "Alright, Govie. Come out, come out, wherever you are." Across the street, a building is going up in flames, the townhouses along this street doing the same. Then, I see him. He stands in front of the building that must've been his house, just watching the town burn. "Gotcha."

I start to raise my gun, then stop, holstering it. I want him to know it's me, to remember what he did to me when I end his life. "Stay here," I hiss.

"Clary!" Jesse whispers, reaching out to stop me.

I pull my arm from his grasp, continuing to cross the street. I start forward, and the Governor looks at me, not really registering I'm there, until I stop in front of him. "You son of a motherfucking bitch."

I throw a punch that knocks him on his ass, circling around him as I draw my gun. "You ruined our lives," I growl. "You ruined _me."_

I raise my gun as the Governor looks up at me, preparing to finally end this strife. I suddenly think of dragging his dead body back to the prison, just to show the others that I was the one that did it. However, the thought distracts me, giving the Governor enough time to push the gun away. He tries to pull it out of my hands, and it goes off just as he pushes it away from his face. The Governor gets up as I drop my gun, throwing a punch that causes me to stumble back. We exchange blows, neither getting anywhere. I roll, grabbing my gun as I do so. I get a punch in that causes him to turn his back on me, but I'm not done with the fight yet. Not even close.

I attack him from behind, swinging myself up and wrapping my legs around his neck. I aim my gun at his forehead, but it clicks. We both stop fighting for a second as I sigh, "Oh, for fuck's sake."

"This is awkward," the Governor says. "Back to fighting?"

I punch him in reply, and he grasps my hips, throwing me down against the hood of a car. He wraps a hand around my throat, and I claw at his hand, getting nowhere. "I ruined _your lives?"_ he snaps. "Your friend killed my daughter! My Penny!"

"She was already dead!" I choke out, remembering that Michonne told me about what went down when she left us in Woodbury.

"She killed my daughter!" the Governor repeats.

"If you're gonna kill me, kill me. Otherwise, shut the hell up."

The Governor releases me, stepping back as he draws his gun. He aims it down at me, and I remember the gunshot wound in Merle's chest. I ask, "Is this how he looked?"

"What?" the Governor asks.

"Merle. Is this how he looked when you killed my brother?"

The Governor pauses, and behind him, I see a walker approach, and I know it's my opportunity to get away. I bark, "Watch out!"

He turns, and as soon as he does, I scramble to my feet, taking off for my bike across the street. I hear the gunshot, and I dive into the alley. I scramble for the extra ammo in my bag, loading it in as fast as I can. Jesse covers me, firing at walkers in the street. We both duck down as the Governor returns fire our way, but I don't think he saw us as he stops after firing three shots. I get to my feet, aiming out at the Governor. I have him in my sights, but I don't fire. There's something telling me, _not yet_. This part of the story isn't over yet. It's not supposed to end this way. So I let the Governor live, and he gives up looking for me. Jesse and I climb on my motorcycle, not starting it up, and wait until the Governor disappears from view. I start it up, tearing out of the alleyway. We leave Woodbury, letting it burn down behind us.

* * *

 **~Daryl~**

"Five days!" I cry, pacing back and forth in the library. "She's been gone five days! _Two days!_ That's how long she said she'd be gone!"

"Daryl." I turn at the sound of Glenn's voice. "I know where she is. Or, I have an idea, at least. Carl told me last night."

"Where?" I demand. "I'm gonna go get her."

"She's, uh… Well, you see, Daryl, she's…"

"Spit it out."

Glenn doesn't get a chance to because we all freeze when we hear the motorcycle. I take off first, the others following in a rush to get outside. I'm way ahead of them, sprinting down the path as Rick opens the gates for her. _But she's not alone._

* * *

 **~Clary~**

I stop my motorcycle as soon as we're inside the prison, Jesse and I climbing off. "Who the hell is this?" Rick demands.

"Jesse," I say. Daryl stops halfway down the path, freezing when he sees who I brought back. "This is the Jesse I told you about."

"What the hell is he doing here?"

"Look, he's a friend. He's staying."

"Uh, Clary?" Jesse says.

"Not now, Jess."

"Clary."

"What?" I ask, turning. I stop when I see the blood on his shirt, staining his stomach. I put my hand against my back, feeling blood but no wound. "Oh, god. Jesse!" I run forward, catching him as he drops to the ground. "Jesse! Please, no!" I look up, yelling to the others, "Get Hershel! Doc S! Someone!" I look down at Jesse, tears welling up as I press my hand against the wound in his stomach. "You're gonna be okay. You'll be okay. You're not clockin' out on me today. Oh, Jesus, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I didn't realize it," Jesse chokes out.

"Daryl!" I shout. "Get your ass down here! Rick! Glenn! C'mon, we gotta move him!"

Together, the four of us pick Jesse up, but he latches onto my arm. "No, no, no!" he groans. "Put me down!"

"Jess, please," I beg as the others lower him to the ground, gently laying him in the grass. "C'mon, we'll make the trip quick. It'll be okay. We'll fix you up, you'll be okay."

"No," Jesse breathes. "I'm dead, yo."

"What the hell are you talkin' 'bout?" I ask. "We've got doctors. You'll be alright."

"You don't get it," Jesse whispers. Slowly, he pulls up his shirt, revealing a shallow bite on his abdomen. "When you were goin' toe to toe, one snuck up on me."

"Jess, it ain't deep. I don't think it broke the skin. Maybe you'll be okay! There's no blood! I don't think it broke the skin!"

"It did. I felt it. I'm dead, Dix. I'm so sorry."

The others back off, giving me space as I bury my face in Jesse's chest, unable to hold back the tears any longer. "Please, Jesse." He wraps an arm around me, resting his hand on my back. "Please, don't leave me, too."

Jesse wraps his other arm around me, and I look up when Hershel arrives. Daryl pulls him aside, quietly informing Hershel of the situation. I go back to Jesse, stretching my legs out so he can rest against them while I look down at him. I run my fingers through his hair, brushing it back, as Jesse closes his eyes, wrapping his hand around my free one. "Yo, bitch," Jesse breathes.

"I'm pretty sure it's 'Yo, Adrian,'" I say, causing Jesse to laugh. He coughs after a second, a little bit of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. I wipe it away, keeping my hand on his cheek. "Yeah, Jess?"

"I'll see you on the other side..."

Jesse closes his eyes, finally looking to be at peace as he takes his final breath. There's so much I want to say, but I can't bring myself to. I settle for, "Catch you on the flipside, bitch."

Daryl kneels beside me, drawing his knife. I put a hand out, stopping him. "No," I say. "It has to be me. Jesse's death is on my hands. I gotta make sure he don't come back."

Daryl takes a step back, and my hands are shaking as I draw my knife. I line it up with his right temple, gathering every ounce of courage I have to push it into his brain. My knife goes in to the hilt. I let out the sob I was holding back as I ended it, resting my forehead against Jesse's. "I'm sorry, Jess," I whisper. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

* * *

 **~Daryl~**

Clary sits back on her knees, and I remain kneeling beside her. "What do you mean, his death is on your hands?" I question.

"He's back!" Clary shouts, loud enough for everyone around us to hear.

Everyone looks at each other, confused. "Who's back?" Carol finally asks.

"The Governor's alive! I saw him!" Clary looks up, her eyes tired and red from crying. Then, I see the blood on her face. I see how her face is starting to bruise, along with her neck. "I fought him. I had a shot!" Her voice thickens, showing her emotion. She has trouble speaking, trying not to cry. "I wanted to end him, end all of this. I wanted to make y'all proud. But he's still out there." She shakes her head, wiping her eyes. "I had a shot. Walkers got in the way. He's close. He was in Woodbury."

"What the hell were you doing in Woodbury?" I ask.

"I thought we mighta missed something. I couldn't find anything. But I got some other shit." She nods towards her bike. "In the bags."

Rick and Glenn right her motorcycle, Glenn digging in the bags. From the first one, he pulls out a picture. I can see Hershel in it, along with Maggie, Beth, and other people. Glenn looks up at Clary, eyebrows creasing in confusion. "This was on Hershel's fridge," Glenn says. "Clary, where'd you get this?"

Clary's hand drifts to a new necklace hanging around her neck, her hand tightening around the pendant before I have a chance to see what it is. "You know the answer," she says.

Rick shakes his head, asking, "Where the hell have you been?"

"I wasn't on a run," Clary admits, struggling to even hold herself up from where she is on her knees. "I went back to the farm. I saw Shane's body. Rick, there was a bullet through his skull. I watched you stab him in the heart. What the hell happened after I left?"

His only reply is, "Ask Carl."

I help Clary up, slinging one of her arms around my shoulders while I wrap mine around her waist. She leans heavily on me as we make our way up towards the prison, Glenn behind us with her motorcycle. Carl comes running then, having just gotten word that Clary's returned. "Clary!"

She doesn't look at him, doesn't say anything. He takes her other side, and Carl and I carry Clary into the cell block. Along the way, she goes limp, and I look down at her. "Passed out. Probably exhausted. Poor thing." I glance over to Carl. "Your cell again?"

"It's the closest," he confirms. "Whoa, is that blood? Is she hurt?"

"It's Jesse's," I say, and he looks at me. "It's a hell of a long story, I'm betting. She's gonna have some explaining to do."

* * *

 **~Clary~**

As I wake, the bottom of a bunk comes into focus above me. Beside me, I hear Carl's voice saying, "So, I guess you found him. And he beat the shit outta you."

I lift my head, looking at him in confusion. "What?"

"The Governor. I told the others why you were really out there, after you passed out. Daryl was pissed. It was a stupid thing you did, taking him on."

I sigh, resting my head back on the pillow as I stare up at the top bunk. "Yeah, well, I've done dumber."

I throw my arm over my eyes as I try not to cry, remembering all the stupid shit that Jesse did. "Clary?" Carl asks.

"Jesse's dead," I say, sobbing.

"I know," Carl murmurs. "We buried him for you while you were out."

"If he hadn't been bit, we coulda saved him. I still don't think he was bit! He bled out. I had to put him down before he turned. I ended it."

"I'm sorry. I know you were friends." Carl's silent for a moment, then says, "You're wearing Shane's necklace."

"He made me realize I have things worth fighting for, even if he wasn't trying to. I just gotta remember that." I turn my head to look at Carl. "I got it from his body. Now, Rick told me to ask you about why in the hell Shane has a bullet in his head when I watched Rick stab him."

"Shane came back as a walker, even though he wasn't bit," Carl tells me. "I watched it. I put Shane down. I ended it, like I ended my mom before she could turn."

"Wait, wait, wait, what? You shot Shane?"

"How else do you think my dad realized Jenner was right? It was Shane, Clary. It's _always_ been Shane."


	13. Luke

**Season 4:**

 **Luke**

 _ **~Clary~**_

I don't stop as I run through the woods without a single idea where I'm going. I don't even know if I'll go back. I just know I have to get the hell away from the prison, from the place Rick kicked me out of. I guess karma really is a bitch. Rick kicked me out, forced me to live out here; and now, everyone else is going to join me.

 _Maybe I should just leave them behind. Keep running to who knows where. I'm dead to them._

I shake the thoughts out of my head as I continue on, and I have to catch myself on a branch before I can tumble down a ravine. I turn away from it, searching for another way to run. I don't care where I'm going at this point, as long as I get away. I only stop when I start to have trouble breathing, worrying that maybe this flu got to me after all. _Karma, you bitch._

I put a hand on a tree trunk for support, squinting to see into the distance. I can make out the figure of a man carrying a rifle, another man carrying a crossbow. I can tell that they're human, that they're alive. My vision is starting to go blurry, and I hope like hell these guys are friendly and willing to help in case I pass out. My eyes drift to the one with the rifle, how his silhouette is so close to Rick's that I think it might actually be him. "Rick, that you?" I ask. "Rick?"

As I fall, I hear a voice that I know isn't Rick's shout, "Shit!"

* * *

When I wake, I'm in someone's arms. I can hear two men conversing, and I recognize one of their voices as the same guy that shouted when I fell. After a moment, I realize that the one that I thought to be Rick is the one that's carrying me. I lift my head from his arm as I open my eyes, and he looks down at the movement. "Pete, she's awake!" he rushes.

"Where's Rick?" I blurt, and my eyes land on the crossbows, mine included, the other man carries. "Daryl?"

"I, um, I'm not sure who you're talking about," the one carrying me says. "Are they your group?"

"Daryl's my big brother. Rick's our leader."

"Did you get separated?" the one named Pete asks. "Are you lost?"

"A man attacked us," I tell them. "He had a full militia, a tank. I don't know where the rest of my people are."

The two men look at each other. "That explains the racket we heard earlier," the one carrying me says before glancing down at me. "I'm sorry, but if you were at a prison, it's gone. Lurkers have overrun it."

"I know," I say. "I barely got out myself. But my people, we're fighters. I just don't know where they are."

"I'm Luke," the one carrying me introduces himself. "This is Pete."

Pete waves in hello. "Clary," I tell them. "Clary Dixon."

"Hey, Clary," Luke says. "We're gonna take you back to our group, that okay?

I close my eyes, resting my head against Luke's arm. I never trust people this quickly, but I've got a good read on Luke. He's a good person, without a doubt. I trust him and Pete immediately, like I trusted Tyreese. "You feeling alright, Clary?" Pete asks.

I open my eyes to look at him. "I haven't slept in days. Haven't done anything in days except work my ass off. Shit went south at the prison, I was one of the few people left."

"What happened?"

"It was a bad situation from every angle."

"The man that attacked you, did he say his name?"

"Pete," Luke snaps. "Let the girl alone. She's exhausted. We can question her later."

"You're running from someone," I say. "It's okay. Your secret's safe with me. I don't give up information."

"Thank you," Luke says, looking down at me.

"What's his name? The man you're running from?"

"Carver. William Carver. I know you're not with him, being at that prison and all."

"I've never heard of him. You guys… you aren't with the Governor, are you?"

"Who's that?" Pete questions.

"Don't worry about it," I say. "How far's your camp?"

"Maybe another fifteen, twenty minutes," Luke tells me. "Man, Pete, we really went out today. Farther than usual."

As they go back to their conversation, I find myself struggling to stay awake in Luke's arms. The swaying as he walks and the warmth he's giving off are enough to make me fall asleep. Luke glances down, chuckling softly as he sees me battling sleep. "Shut up," I mumble.

"What?" Luke asks innocently. "It's cute."

"Stop."

"Like you," Luke adds.

"Luke," Pete scolds, while I smile softly. I haven't been called cute in a long time. I try not to think of those times gone by as I drift off to sleep in Luke's arms.

* * *

I wake in a dark room in an unfamiliar bed, and I slowly sit up. I can see the moon outside the window, and I find myself wondering how long I've been asleep. A note on the nightstand catches my attention, and it's accompanied by a bottle of water. I realize how thirsty I am as I grab both the note and the water. I want to drink more, but I know I'll have to save it. I look down at the note in my hand, reading it.

 _Clary-  
_ _You fell asleep on the way back to our cabin.  
Don't worry, you're safe. I'll be downstairs if you need anything.  
_ _-Luke  
_ _P.S. This note's on the nightstand I can't stand. Maybe you could help me find the right_ _one_.

"Oh, my god, Luke," I say as I understand the postscript. " _One night stand._ "

I shake my head, tucking his note in my pocket. I quietly make my way downstairs in case the rest of these people aren't as friendly as Luke and Pete. I freeze at the bottom of the steps, noticing a Hispanic man sitting in the living room. He doesn't see me, instead looking down at a book. I take another step forward, and the floorboards creak. He looks up, and when he sees me standing there, cries, "¡ _Oh, carajo_!"

" _Lo siento_ ," I apologize. "¿ _Dónde está_ Luke?" The man points to a door leading to a porch. " _Gracias. Me llamo_ Clary."

"Carlos," he replies. "I speak English, you know."

"I don't get to speak Spanish much anymore," I tell him. "I kinda miss it."

"You're the girl that Luke brought back, yes?" I nod, and Carlos smiles softly. "How old are you? My daughter, Sarah, is fifteen. She could use a friend."

"I don't plan on stayin'," I say. "I got a group to find. Thanks for your help, though."

"I understand," Carlos tells me, getting to his feet. I follow him across the room, and he opens the door for me. I quickly thank him, slipping outside and closing the door behind me. At the other end of the porch, Luke leans against the railing. He glances over as I approach. "Hey," he says softly. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine," I tell him, leaning against the railing beside him. "Saw that note." Luke pauses for a second. "I, um, I kinda have a boyfriend."

"Shit, I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," I tell him. "I thought it was creative. And funny. I needed a laugh after today."

"The man you mentioned, the Governor? Is he the one that destroyed your home?" I nod. "Who the hell is he?"

"A bad dude," I tell him. "But you don't need to worry. I ended it."

"You killed him?" Luke asks.

"And I'm glad I did it," I say softly. "He killed my brother, my friends… Took my home. He took everything from me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's how you learn to survive, right?"

"Guess so," Luke says. He quiet for a few minutes before adding, "I've been thinking about that prison."

"What do you need?" I question.

"Wow, you get straight to the point, don't you?"

"Luke."

"Food," he answers. "We could use more food, especially with Rebecca eating for two."

"You have a pregnant woman?" I ask, remembering being on the road with Lori.

Luke nods once. "We need more food. Even with Pete, Nick, and I hunting and fishing, it ain't enough."

"You set traps?" Luke shakes his head. "You should. Use less energy with traps."

"I'll take that into consideration," Luke tells me. "So, are you willing to go back to the prison? I don't know where you keep your food."

"We leave at first light," I tell him. "Also… I might need a map. I wasn't paying attention when I ran. I didn't have any plans to go back to my group."

"Why?" Luke asks.

"Because Rick kicked me out," I say. "I killed someone. I was trying to protect us. Rick didn't like it. I came back during the battle, killed the Governor, ended it. After this, I've gotta go. I'm gonna look for my brother. If I don't come back, well, I've either found him or I'm dead." I pause, then look over at Luke. "If I don't find him, I can come back, right?"

Luke nods. "Of course. We won't make you leave like your friends did."

I give him a small smile. "Thanks."

* * *

Luke and I took off at first light, making our way to the prison. I lead him once we near it, knowing all of the paths around it and through it like the back of my hand. The cell blocks are clear of walkers (or lurkers, as Luke calls them), and I slow down as we enter Cell Block C. "How 'bout that," I say, looking around at my old home. "Rick told me to never come back, and yet here I am."

"Maybe this was how it's supposed to be," Luke suggests.

"Maybe," I echo. I step into Carl's cell first, grabbing the picture of him and his parents. Luke leans against the stair railing as I exit, and he asks, "Whose cell is that?"

"Carl's," I answer. "My boyfriend."

"Where's yours?"

"C'mon," I say, climbing the stairs. "I'll show you."

I lead Luke into what once was my cell, and I grab my bag from beneath my bunk. I quickly check, and everything that should be in there is. My copy of _The Outsiders_ I took from the CDC, my Kobra Kid bandana, Daryl's shirt, Merle's switchblade, my phone, and the _Attack on Titan_ wallet Glenn got me as a joke. As I put my backpack on my back, Luke notes, "You didn't have much in here. I saw some of the other cells. They were decorated."

"I, uh, I've always thought something like this would happen. I try not to get attached, travel light, and that's how I survive."

"Gets a little lonely, though, doesn't it?" Luke inquires.

"Yeah," I tell him. "Yeah, it does." I take Luke's hand, leading him to the place we keep our food. "C'mon. Let's get you food for your people."

Luke and I work rather quickly, gathering all the food we can fit into the backpacks we took with us when we left the cabin. Luke tries to offer to take mine, but I refuse, putting it on my back over my other bag. "Let's go," I say. "Keep your gun up. Walkers are still out there. Be ready."

We get a few feet from the door before the walkers notice us, a group heading towards us. "Oh, shit," Luke says.

"Yeah," I agree. "C'mon, think, Dix, think!" Luke suddenly takes off, ducking around walkers. I yell, "Luke! Luke, what the fuck!"

He yells something in reply, but it's lost over the growls of the walkers. I'm forced to retreat into the cell block, up the stairs, and to the wall. I raise my gun, counting my bullets as I fire on the walkers. From below, I hear a shout. "Hey! Down here! C'mon, fresh meat, assholes!"

"Luke!" I cry, having thought that he was dead or had abandoned me. The walkers turn away, following the sound of his voice.

"Hey, Dix! Catch!" Luke yells, and I catch two full magazines that he tosses up to me. I quickly reload my gun, shooting walkers as I run for the cell block floor. Luke and I leave together, him running ahead of me a little ways, but I can still see him. We're separated for a few moments as we enter the woods, and neither of us stop until we reach the train tracks. Luke arrives there first, and I halt at the edge of the clearing. Luke asks, "You alright?"

"You came back," I breathe.

"Of course. We're friends, aren't we?"

I run up, hugging him as I whisper, "Thank you. I owe—"

"No," Luke objects, releasing me. "No, you don't owe me anything, especially after all this food you gave us."

"C'mon," I tell him. "Let's get this food back to your people."

Luke and I walk side by side through the woods, and I slow to a stop as we cross a dirt path. "Clary?" Luke asks when he notices I've stopped. "Everything okay?"

"I think I got a lead," I say, looking down at the footprints. "Here, look." Luke looks over my shoulder as I point down to the trail. "You see these marks here, like someone was dragging their feet, but it's only one foot? That's because they were limping. With walkers, both feet drag. This was made by someone with an injured leg, and Rick was shot in his. These are his prints."

"They look like boot prints," Luke says.

"They are," I tell him. "Good job. Rick wears cowboy boots. This other set, I know they're Carl's. He got out with his dad."

"Wait, hold the fuck up," Luke blurts, looking down at me. "Rick, your leader, the one that kicked you out, is the father of your boyfriend?"

"It's a long story, but yes," I say. A series of gunshots suddenly ring out, and Luke and I turn in the direction they came from. "Carl."

I take the backpack full of food off of my back, putting it on the ground before hugging Luke. "I've gotta go," I tell him. "I gotta go find Carl."

"Okay. We'll be at the cabin if you can't find them. You're welcome to join us."

"Thank you," I whisper. "Stay safe, Luke."

"You too, Clary."

As I pull away from him, starting to turn to run off, I pause and look back at him. "My real name's Cheyenne," I tell him. "Clary's my middle name."

"I would've thought your middle name's 'danger,'" Luke remarks. We smile at each other, and Luke urges me on with a jerk of his head. "Go. I'll see you around."

Without another word, I take off to find Carl.

* * *

 _ **~Clementine~**_

"How did we get here?" Luke asks as I press my hands against his leg, trying to stop the bleeding from the gunshot wound.

"What do you mean?" I question.

"Sitting in the snow… leaned up against a tree, a bullet in my leg, but alive. When so many of my friends are dead for no good reason, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. Everyone we set out with, just gone. Nick, Pete… Alvin and Becca… Carlos… Sarah…"

"You can't blame yourself," I tell him. "It wasn't your fault."

"No," Luke agrees. "Not completely. I could've done more, and that ain't up for debate. I know it in my bones, and I've gotta live with it."

"Huh," I say, suddenly reminded of an old friend. "I knew a girl like that. One that thinks the same way as you."

"Yeah?" Luke asks.

"I met her after. Clary Dixon. I wonder where she is now. I hope she's okay."

"She is," Luke assures me. "Last I saw of her, she was."

I slowly look up at him. " _What?"_

"Clary Dixon. I know exactly who you're talking about. I met her. Pete and I found her in the woods like we found you. She was exhausted, passed out. She helped us get food. Clary was separated from her group. When we were walking back, she found a trail. She took off. Clary, uh, Clary said that if she didn't find her group, she'd be back. We were willing to take her in. I hope she found 'em, 'cause we ain't there no more."

"It's so weird," I say. "Clary and I keep meeting the same people, then leave before we see each other again. It's like we're playing a game of tag, where we can't catch each other but we get so damn close."


	14. The Drive to DC

**Season 5:**

 **The Drive to D.C.**

Rick drove in silence, everyone in his van asleep aside from him. He glanced over at Clary, who sat in the passenger seat, as she stirred, waking. He glanced at the clock, seeing it said it was one in the morning, before saying, "Get some sleep, Clary. You haven't gotten more than an hour in days."

"I haven't been able to sleep since Atlanta," Clary admitted. "I slept that night Daryl, Carol, and I left."

"That was four days ago."

Clary fell silent, then gestured towards the wheel. "You want me to take over?"

"I'm good," Rick replied. "You need sleep, Clary. You can't keep running on thirty-minute naps here and there."

"I'm fine, Rick. I've run on less. 'Sides, you look like you're 'bout ready to fall asleep."

Rick, realizing that he wasn't going to win, gave in. "Tell Abraham we're gonna switch out."

Clary picked up the CB, saying, "Dixon to Ginger, you there? Over."

"Cliché, much?" Rick said with a chuckle, but was surprised when Abraham went right along with it. The ginger said, "Ginger to Dixon, I hear you. There something wrong? Over."

"Just lettin' you know Officer Friendly and I are gonna switch out. Over."

"Ten-four, Dixon. Over and out."

"You're so cliché," Rick repeated as he slowed to a stop.

"It's only fun when the guy at the other end goes along with it," Clary replied, sliding over to the driver's seat as Rick got out to climb in the passenger's seat. As soon as he was back in, Clary started off again. She glanced in the rearview mirror at the backseat, hearing someone as they woke, and saw Glenn rubbing his eyes. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Go back to sleep, Short Round," Clary told him. "Everything's fine. We just switched."

Glenn didn't argue, going back to sleep. They drove in silence for a few miles, and Clary eventually said, "It must be different."

"What's different?" Rick questioned.

"You startin' out as a cop, then goin' and stealin' cars, shootin' people. Goin' against everythin' you were supposed to enforce."

Rick chuckled softly. "Yeah, it's very different. What about you?"

Clary scoffed. "No. Still hunt to survive. Still got Daryl keepin' an eye on me. Only difference is instead of lookin' over my shoulder for my dad, I'm lookin' over it for the dead."

Rick was quiet for a few moments, then asked, "Do you… do you remember Randall? Dave and Tony?"

"How can I not?" Clary replied, glancing over at him.

"You ever wonder what happened to their group?"

Clary was silent for a moment. "Not really, not until now. But if I had to guess, I'd say the Claimers."

"You mean Joe and them? What about 'em?"

"They were what was left. Some shit happened, left only a few of them. Dave and Tony were the king shits of their group, and their leaders were killed. Joe comes along, kills the weak ones and the ones that won't listen to him. He becomes their leader." She glanced down, then back at the road. "I hate talkin' about them, that night."

"It's been a week, Clary. No one expects you to be like you were before the fall of the prison."

"The fall didn't change me."

"It did. I can tell." Rick paused, unsure whether or not he should ask. "Did you see what happened to Hershel?"

"I saw all of it, Rick. I shot Tara's sister in the head. She lost her daughter, so I ended it. Her sister wasn't strong, like Carol. I could tell. So I put a bullet in her head. Kept her from dying ugly. After Michonne saved your ass, she left the Governor to die. I walked right up to him, looking him in his one good eye, and I put a bullet in his head."

"How'd you know Daryl was alive?"

"The worst part of that?" Clary asked, looking over at him. "I didn't."

"All you could do was hope."

"That's all we can do anymore. How are we supposed to know that Washington's legit? Are we just supposed to trust everything Eugene says? After he lied to all of us? So many people have died protecting his ass. I won't let anyone in this group be another. We already lost Bob. I ain't gonna let Glenn die. Especially not him. The fool's dumb enough to trust Eugene."

"You don't?"

"Hell no. I don't need to explain myself to you. Or are you gonna kick me out again if I don't agree with you?"

"Damn, Dixon," Carl said from the backseat, having woken at the sound of their voices. "You should be a ginger with all that fire in you."

"Damn right she should be," Abraham agreed over the radio.

Clary looked down, realizing that the button that allowed them to speak was accidentally being pressed by Rick's foot. She snatched it up, asking, "You could hear that?"

"That I could," Abraham answered. "And as much as I hate to say it, you've got a valid point, girl. Eugene's still my responsibility, but I can't help but to agree with you. Yeah, he lied, but it was either that or die. You can't blame him for wanting to live."

"But letting so many others die just to keep him alive?"

"Man's persistent."

"Abe, is DC your answer for everything?"

"No. But shut up so we can drive."

"To DC?"

"Shut up."

The trio that was awake glanced at each other, Carl chuckling softly as he reached over the seat for the CB. "Dixon to Ginger," Clary said. "I'm passing you over to Cowboy. Over."

At the other end, Abraham was getting ready to ask who Cowboy was, but as soon as Carl spoke, he understood, remembering that Clary called him that. Carl asked, "Hey, Ginger. Would your favorite color be DC? Over."

Abraham sighed. "This is Ginger to Dixon and Cowboy. I'm not answering that question. Over and out."

"That's a yes," Carl said.

Clary glanced over her shoulder at him, then back at the road. "Did we wake you up?"

"No," he said, then leaned up. "I just wanted a kiss."

Carl leaned forward, kissing her, and she pushed him away as she said, "Hey! Stop distracting the driver."

"My bad," he replied, sitting back down next to Glenn. The Korean leaned over, resting his head on Carl's shoulder before curling up next to him. "Clary."

"Yes?"

"Tell your sidekick to get his head off my shoulder."

"I thought you were my sidekick, Grimes."

"No, I'm the damsel in distress. Glenn's your sidekick."

Clary glanced in the mirror, looking at them and chuckled. "Just push him off. Warning: if you try that with Daryl or I, you will end up with a broken nose. If it happens, we're not to blame. You have been warned."

"Understood," Rick said, and Carl managed to push Glenn off without waking him. Rick looked over the seat at his son, telling him, "Go back to sleep. It'll probably be a while before we stop anywhere."

Within five minutes, Carl was asleep again. Clary glanced over at Rick, saying, "You should let me drive more often."

"Well, you'll be sixteen soon, won't you?" Rick inquired.

"Three months, give or take. Ain't like we got calendars anymore."

"Well, we do. They're just for two years ago."

Clary chuckled. "God, it's so quiet nowadays. Before, I'd complain 'bout the noise. Scared the deer, ya know? Now, I'd give anything to hear a crowd of Black Friday shoppers instead of a herd of the dead. Though, actually, I think those guys are _worse_ than the walkers."

Rick laughed. "You like music?" Clary nodded. "What kind?"

"Classic rock all the way, baby. I don't care if it's Bowie, Whitesnake, Metallica. And speaking of Metallica, James Hetfield? _Rock god!_ "

"You really like Metallica, don't you?"

"You usually can't see it because my hair's down, but I have a Metallica tattoo."

"In addition to your _Boondock Saints_ one?"

Clary looked over at him. "How…? I never told…"

"Carl told me."

"That motherfucker."

Rick snorted. "Your Metallica tattoo. What is it?"

"It's the snake from the black album," Clary said as she pushed her hair away from her right ear, showing it to Rick.

"Oh, it's the 'Don't Tread on Me' snake."

"Which, coincidentally, is one of Metallica's songs on that album." Clary dropped her hand away from her ear, glancing over at Rick. "What about you? Any tattoos, music interests?"

"No tattoos," Rick said. "Uh, I like Boston. The band, not the city. Though the city's nice."

"You been?"

"One time. I was your age. Family vacation. You?"

Clary shook her head. "Never left Georgia."

"Wow, really?"

"Yeah. This is my first time out of the Peach State. Never been to the beach either."

"No!"

"I know. It's something I've always wanted to do. Maybe when we finally get where we're going, when all this is over… maybe then I'll get to go. After our fight's over. We deserve a vacation."


	15. The Drive to Alexandria

**Season 5:**

 **The Drive to Alexandria**

"Knock, knock," I say quietly, leaning into the room at the back of the RV.

"Who's there?" Aaron says, looking up at me. He gives me a grin, patting the bed beside him. I start to take a seat, but stumble as Abraham hits a bump in the road. Aaron stands, wrapping an arm around me to stop me from falling on Eric. He releases me, sitting back down. "Sorry."

"Actually, thanks," I say, sitting beside him. "I _really_ didn't want your boyfriend to wake up with some chick on him." Aaron chuckles as I grin at him. My smile fades as I see the rope burn around his wrists. "Oh my god, your wrists. You okay?" Aaron nods. "I'm sorry, Aaron. For all that my group did to you."

"Don't worry about it," Aaron tells me. "It's okay, really. I understand why you did it."

"That still doesn't excuse it," I say, shaking my head. "I'm really sorry, man."

Aaron gives me a small smile. "Thanks. And thank you, Clary."

"For what?"

Aaron gestures to the sleeping Eric. "For saving him."

"Aaron, I was with you. I didn't do nothin'. It was the others."

"You've stood up for us," Aaron says. "You stood up for me. You got the others to trust us."

"They don't trust you. Not like I do. I'm good at readin' people."

"You got me to Eric when he was in trouble," Aaron says. "Clary, I can't thank you enough."

"It's really not a big deal."

"It is," Aaron argues. "Helping him, it's a big deal. I couldn't live without him."

I smile softly. "Think of it as payment for getting us here. For taking us in."

"Um, about that," Aaron says.

With those words, every good feeling in me disappears. My voice cracks as I whisper, "No, Aaron, please. My people need this. Please, don't turn us away."

"Clary," Aaron says, placing a hand on mine. I flinch back at the contact, and he immediately removes his hand. His eyes flick over me, reading all of my movement with a knowing look. I know that he knows what I've been through as he whispers, "Oh my god." Aaron clears his throat. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not you," I tell him. "It's the way I was raised."

"Please know I wouldn't do anything to hurt you," Aaron tells me.

I look to Eric, then back to Aaron. "Your mom, huh?"

"What?"

"She abused you. For me, it was my dad. Maybe in different ways, but… but you've been through it, too."

Aaron frowns, looking away. "She was just confused. Tried to make me more manly."

"That wasn't confusion, Aaron. I mean, you know that, right? You have to."

"I don't know," Aaron says, shaking his head. "I don't know."

Hesitantly, I place my hand on his. "What… what happens if we don't get to stay? What happens to us?"

"You keep on surviving," Aaron says. "I know you can."

"My people, they need this."

"What about you?"

"I think… I think I'm too far gone."

Aaron shakes his head. "No, you're not. You're not." He turns to face me, taking my hands. "Look, Clary, it's my job to bring people back. It's not my job to decide who can stay and who can't. But I choose carefully, the people that we bring back. Your group is the first in a while we've considered. I promise, I'll fight for you if you aren't allowed to stay."

"Have you ever done it? Had to take people away?"

"Once," Aaron says softly. "Three people. They didn't work out. But they were dangerous."

"So are we."

"No, not like you. You're dangerous, but in a good way. They weren't. They threatened us."

"How do you know?" I ask. "The people that can stay, how do you know?"

"We have interviews," Aaron tells me. "To get to know the people we bring back, how they'd fit into our community. Look, Clary, I can assure you that I _know_ you'll be allowed to stay because of who you are, because of your character. We need someone like you in Alexandria."

"It doesn't matter if I'm allowed to stay or not," I say, shaking my head. "I only care that the others have a safe place to live. Carl, Judith, they deserve a roof over their heads. Glenn and Maggie need a place to live, to start a family. They've been out here too long. I want my people to have a safe place."

Aaron studies me for a moment before saying,"You really care about them. What you said on the bridge, about _just_ needing people to watch your back, you didn't mean that."

"I was pissed," I admit. "I didn't mean half the shit I said." I chuckle nervously, scratching the back of my head. "I've been told I got a mouth on me."

Aaron chuckles. "That you do."

Aaron looks back to Eric as he stirs, waking up. "Hey," Aaron says, moving to kneel beside him.

Eric offers him a grin. "Hi." He looks over Aaron's shoulder at me. "Hi, Clary."

I smile and wave at him as Aaron gently pushes Eric's hair back, asking, "How do you feel?"

"Like a car rolled over my ankle," Eric deadpans. He looks up at Aaron. "I'm okay."

"I'll, uh, I'll leave you two alone," I say, getting up.

"No," Eric says as Aaron takes my hand, stopping me. "It's okay. You can stay."

"I don't want to interrupt," I tell them. Aaron tugs me over, and I stand by him, my hands on his shoulders, and I look down at Eric. "I, uh, I want to thank you two. For taking us in. Aaron's told me that you guys have interviews, jobs in your community. We can't be out here anymore. And your home, it sounds like a place my people need to be. I want to be there. If I make it past your auditions."

Eric looks up at his boyfriend. "I thought I told you to stop saying 'auditions.'"

"I know, I know," Aaron says. "Sounds like we're a dance troupe."

"Which reminds me," I say, causing both to look at me. "You guys do _Dirty Dancing_?"

"Maybe we should teach it to you and Carl," Aaron says. "I think you two are the world's favorite couple since Baby and Johnny."

"Oh, I don't know about that," I say, catching myself before I nearly fall over again due to Abraham's driving. "Son of a motherfucking bitch!" I turn to the front of the RV, yelling, "Abraham! What the _fuck!"_

Everyone in the RV laughs, and I shake my head at Abraham in the rearview mirror. He flips me off in reply. I take a seat next to Eric, not trusting Abraham anymore after the second bump. "Just so you know, I don't do heels," I say. "I've never worn a pair in my life."

"You'll figure it out," Eric says. "You, uh, you might want a pair of heels if you're gonna dance with Aaron. He needs a new partner since I broke my ankle."

"Wait," I say, looking back and forth between the two. "You're serious about the dancing?"

"No," Aaron laughs. "We're just messing with you."

"And here I was looking forward to learning how to dance. You guys are assholes."

"Wait," Eric says. "You were serious about wanting to learn?"

"Nah," I laugh. "I'm just messing with you."

Aaron and Eric smile up at me, and it's then that I know we've found good people. This place will work out for us. I rest my hands on their shoulders, making sure they're looking at me. "Thank you," I tell them. "You saved my family."


	16. Sebastian

**Season 5:**

 **Sebastian**

Clary took a deep breath as the gate to Alexandria rolled open, unsure of who and what would be inside. A dark haired man in his forties stepped out, looking to Aaron, the man that brought them there. "It's okay," Aaron said, and Clary wasn't sure if he was speaking to the Gatekeeper or her group. "Come on in, guys."

They followed him in, looking around at the gated community. The Gatekeeper told them, "Before we take this any further, we need you all to turn over your weapons. If you stay, you hand them over."

"We don't know if we want to say," Rick said, stepping forward with a gun in one hand and his baby in the other.

"It's fine, Nicholas," Aaron told the Gatekeeper.

"If we were gonna use 'em, we'd have started already."

"Let them talk to Deanna first," Aaron suggested.

"Who's Deanna?" Abraham, a redheaded ex-soldier, questioned from the back of the group.

"She knows everything you'd want to know about this place. Rick, why don't you start?"

Rick turned to look at the rest of his people, then caught a glimpse of a walker outside the gate. He said, "Sasha."

The dark skinned sniper turned, taking it down with a single shot. Rick turned back to Aaron after handing Judith off to Carl, nodding him on. Rick followed Aaron through Alexandria, remarking, "It's a good thing we're here."

Clary stood and watched as their leader disappeared into the heart of Alexandria, waiting anxiously for him to return. In the distance, she thought she saw a familiar face, Sebastian Widmore. She took a few steps forward, breaking out of her trance when Glenn asked, "Clary? Hey, what're you doing?"

Clary turned to look at him. "What?"

"You with me, Clary? You zoned out. You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," she replied. "I'm good. I just thought I saw a familiar face 's all."

Clary shook it off, stepping back to take her usual place beside Daryl. So only he would hear it, she whispered, "I thought I saw Seb."

"Seb?" Daryl repeated, looking down at her. "Widmore?"

"I couldn't have. I have to be hallucinating. I haven't slept for longer than an hour for a few days. It's sleep deprivation."

They decided to stay in Alexandria after all. Most of them spent the first day cleaning up and taking a lap of Alexandria to map its layout. Clary, on the other hand, chose to shower and sleep, deciding to explore the following day. So she napped in the bed she and Carl claimed, then slept in the living room with the others that night. She hadn't realized how truly tired she was, convinced that it was her lack of sleep that caused her to see Sebastian.

The next morning, she decided to go exploring. She found her way to the pantry, and, more importantly, the armory. The woman in charge was a heavier, smiling woman with dark hair and matching eyes named Olivia. She greeted Clary with a smile, saying, "You're part of the new addition to our community, right? I remember seeing you yesterday. I'm Olivia. I'm in charge of the pantry and the armory. If you need anything, let me know…"

She trailed off, waiting for the hunter's name. "Clary," she said. "You mind if I check out your armory? I wanna see how well you're stocked."

"Are you expecting an attack?" Olivia joked.

"You can never be too careful," Clary said, shockingly serious for once. "Walkers or people, they're both dangerous. There's bad people out there. And people like me, we're the ones that have to protect people like you. Ones that haven't seen what's out there like I have."

"So you're one of the good ones?"

"Do you think I'd be in here otherwise?"

Olivia couldn't argue with that logic, so she gestured for Clary to continue back. "First, though," she said, "I have to request that you don't take anything."

"Of course," Clary assured her. "I want my people to be safe, and I'm not going to jeopardize them by stealing from your armory. I may be a redneck, but I ain't stupid."

Olivia gave her a small smile, and Clary headed back, studying each gun she found. She was amazed that they had a chest full of nine millimeters that no one used. "Probably all use the flashy ones," Clary muttered. "The Glocks and Desert Eagles. Dumbasses."

She was finally gettin to the important stuff, the ammunition, when she heard Olivia speaking to someone else. "Go ahead back," Olivia said. "Oh, and, yeah, I know there's someone back there. She's part of that group that just came."

There was a mumbled reply, and Clary grew aware of someone watching her as she picked up a box of .22 bullets. She paused, turning to face them as she looked up and froze. The clattering of the ammunition as it hit the ground shook Clary's shock away, realizing that the box had slid out of her hands. "Shit," she muttered, kneeling and quickly gathering the bullets before they could roll away. The Alexandrian knelt in front of her, gathering bullets to help her. "No, Seb, don't, I—"

"Shut up," Sebastian told her, taking the refilled box and placing it back on the shelf. "My God, it really is you."

Sebastian rested his hand on her cheek, and as soon as he did, the familiar touch and the fact that he really was there in Alexandria and he was _alive_ , made her break. Clary's eyes flooded with tears, and soon enough, she was sobbing, crying as Sebastian wrapped an arm around her. She couldn't save his brother, and she thought he was dead this entire time. And then there he was, having saved and fended for himself who knows how long before Aaron and Eric found him and brought him to Alexandria. There she was, alive and unharmed, while his brother died back in Georgia. When there were stories of riots on the news, ones that she would later realize was the start of it all, she promised them that if anything ever happened, she'd be there for both of the Widmore brothers. "I wasn't there," she sobbed. "I said I'd be there for you and I wasn't. And Sam…"

"Shh, Clary," he shushed her. "It's alright. It's alright." Sebastian hated to ask it, fearing the answer, but he had to know. "Where _is_ Sam?"

Clary froze at the mention of the youngest Widmore. She pulled away from Sebastian, fearing his reaction, and pushed herself into a corner. Slowly, hesitantly, she whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Clary…"

"I did everything I could!" she cried, tears running down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry! It's all my fault!"

"No," he managed, shaking his head. Sebastian fell back, no longer in the kneeling position he was in. "No, no no, please, no…"

"He's gone, Seb. I couldn't save him! I was holding on, but the walkers just came! They got him. They pulled him right out of my grip! I almost went down with him. Everyday, I wish I did! Now more than ever! I never thought I'd be able to keep it buried until the day I die! Everyday, that day's getting closer and closer, and hey, maybe that's a good thing. 'Cause somehow, every situation I survive, people that I love always die."

"Clary, shut up," Sebastian ordered, cutting her off before she could continue. "Just stop talking."

"Seb," she whimpered. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as she pulled her knees to her chest. Sebastian got to his feet, walking towards where she trapped herself in the corner. Sebastian took a seat beside her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling Clary towards him.

"Calm down," he whispered, knowing that she was on the verge of one of the panic attacks he'd helped her though before. "It's okay. Breathe with me, okay?" He took a deep breath, and she mirrored him. Sebastian repeated it until he was satisfied she was calm enough for him to continue. "It's okay, Clary. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

"But what about Sam?" Clary questioned.

"It's not something I'm going to forget, and probably won't be able to forgive. I mean, you said you'd be there and you weren't. But that's not something that I can hold against you. Shit happens. That's how the world is now. That doesn't change the fact that Sam's dead. Nothing will. Sam's death is something you've carried, and you'll have to carry for the rest of your life. You let go of him."

"I'm sorry, Sebastian," Clary murmured, burying her face in his chest. "Just know I did everything I could."

"I know you did," he told her. "You always give a hundred and ten percent. You wouldn't let go unless you couldn't hold on. I'm not forgetting that Sam's dead, but I'm going to try to forgive you for it. Because we're family, and that's what family does."

Sebastian got to his feet, then pulled Clary to hers. Together, they walked out of the armory, down the streets of Alexandria. Aaron and Eric were sitting on their porch as the two Georgia natives strolled past, and they waved the two up with them. Eric noted, "I see you've met Clary."

"More like reunited with," Sebastian corrected. "We grew up together in Georgia."

"Huh," Aaron chuckled. "I knew you were both from Georgia, but I never would've thought you grew up together, let alone knew each other."

"I'd say Georgia is a big state, but as it turned out, I met Glenn before all this," Clary said. "We ran into each other at a concert."

"The MCR one?" Sebastian guessed. "And who the hell is Glenn?"

"Yeah, and my brother," Clary responded. "Not by blood, like Daryl. But he _is_ my brother. And speaking of Daryl…"

She waved to her brother own the street, gesturing for him to join them. He sighed, not wanting to get involved with any of the Alexandrians, but started over when he saw it was Aaron and Eric. They were the only two he could actually stand being around. He froze when the tall brunet standing next to Clary turned to look at him. Daryl asked, "Sebastian?"

"Oh my god, is that Daryl?" he heard Sebastian ask his sister. Sebastian jumped over the porch railing, running down the street to him. He stopped short when he saw Daryl was frozen in place, asking, "Daryl?"

"Sebastian? Is that really you?" Daryl replied.

"Last time I checked, I was," Sebastian answered. He wrapped his arms around Daryl, who reciprocated the action. "It's good to see you, man."

"Yeah, you too," Daryl replied, slowly getting over the shock of the eldest Widmore being alive. He patted him on the back, telling him, "You have no idea what it was doing to Clary. She thought you were dead, too. She thinks that Sam's death is her fault. It's good to have you back, man."

Sebastian released Daryl, stepping back and placing a hand on Daryl's shoulder. "I'm glad you made it, Daryl. Welcome to Alexandria."


	17. The Great Twister Rematch

**Season 5:**

 **The Great Twister Rematch**

Aaron knocked on the door of one of the houses that was given to the new group, giving Rick a nervous grin as he opened it. "Hi," Aaron said.

"Aaron," Rick replied, looking slightly surprised to see him.

"I was just stopping by to see how you guys are liking it here."

"Rick, let him in," Maggie called.

Rick took a step back, allowing Aaron to enter. He looked down at Rick, asking, "You thinking of staying?"

Rick was quiet, obviously still unsure of this place and Aaron. A loud bang cut through the room, and they all looked to the table, where it came from. A box had been dropped onto the dining room table in front of Glenn, Clary leaning down with fire in her eyes. Deadly serious, she said, "I demand a rematch, Short Round."

Glenn closed his eyes, sighing softly, before looking up at Clary. "I hoped this day would never come, Indy." His chair nearly fell over as he stood, leaning down to Clary's level. "You're on."

Cheers went through the group, with the exception of the people that arrived after the prison. The newcomers all looked to each other in confusion, Tara asking, "Are we… are we missing something?"

Maggie grabbed a notebook and a pen, taking a seat as the group moved things out of the living room to make room for the mat. "We had a Twister match one night, and Clary's been wanting revenge ever since."

"Hey!" Clary objected. "Glenn sat on me! I have every right!"

"Guys, what if we have an Ultimate Twister Champion?" Carl asked as he entered. "We have a tournament like last time, then Glenn and Clary's rematch. The two winners go head to head for the title of Ultimate Twister Champion."

"And if it's the same person, they automatically get the title," Michonne added. "I like it."

"Hands up if you're playing!" Maggie called. Hands went up, and Maggie wrote names on her paper.

Aaron shifted nervously on his feet, asking, "You mind if I join?"

Clary grinned as she saw him at the door, waving him into the living room. "Gabriel doesn't have a partner," Maggie said. "Sound good?" Aaron nodded. "Everybody ready?" Excited nods went through the group. "Alright! Aaron and Gabriel, you're first."

The priest and the runner stepped up to the mat, Aaron joking, "A gay guy and a priest step on a Twister mat. Sounds like the start of a bad joke."

From their spot on the floor, Tara, Clary, and Rosita were howling with laughter. Aaron quietly judged the three, as he didn't think he was _that_ funny. He looked back to Maggie when she called, "Right hand, blue!"

The two put their hands down, then placed their right feet on yellow at the next spin. Aaron quickly proved to be better at Twister than Gabriel, as the priest didn't last long after they had to put their left hand in the air. Aaron and Gabriel stepped off the next two, Michonne and Sasha, stepped onto the mat. The group from the prison sucked in their breath, remembering that both girls were pretty good at Twister. "Left hand, red," Maggie announced.

And so it went, until Sasha overbalanced and fell, leaving Michonne to be victorious. "Alright, Rosita versus Tara!" Maggie called.

"Kick her ass!" Clary called as the two girls got up on either side of her.

Tara and Rosita turned around, the latter asking, "Which one?"

"Yes," Clary replied, causing the three to laugh. Aaron wasn't there earlier, but he was about ninety percent sure there was some alcohol involved.

Maggie spun their spinner, saying, "Uh, okay. Right foot in the air."

The two were twisted up together by the eighth spin, Rosita on top. Maggie called, "Left hand, yellow."

"Oh, shit," Rosita remarked, trying to reach around Tara to find a yellow spot. The two girls let out shrieks as Rosita fell on top of Tara, and Tara fell to the ground, unable to support their combined weight. Rosita sighed softly, giving in to defeat as she rolled off of Tara. Maggie passed the notebook and spinner to Clary as she got up to face Daryl. It was obvious that Maggie wasn't trying very hard, as she only put her name down so they'd have more people. Daryl won, and Maggie took the notebook and spinner back as Glenn and Rick stepped onto the mat. Maggie called, "Right foot, red!"

Glenn and Rick stepped on the mat. After a few spins, Glenn was squatting while Rick kept his legs straight. The Korean look up at him, noting, "Thanks, Rick, for not sticking your ass in my face like you did to Clary the last time we played."

Chuckles went through the group as they remembered Clary and Rick arguing on the mat. Carol said, "Clary, you and Rick should've played Twister to settle everything that happened. Might've kept you two from fighting so much after, you know…"

The room went silent as they remembered everything that happened surrounding the fall of the prison. During the drive, Rick and Clary didn't argue too much, but it was obvious tensions were high between the two. Aaron, who was clueless, asked, "Um, what did happen?"

"Rick kicked me out," Clary said, getting to her feet while glaring at Rick. "'Cause I killed one of our own. Not like he hadn't before."

"Clary, we've talked about this," Rick said, looking over his shoulder as he moved to put his left foot on green. He watched as she made her way over to Aaron, arms crossed over her chest. "You said everything was fine between us."

"I said I'd follow you, nothin' more. I was tryin' to protect us, and you made me leave everyone I've ever cared about behind. And then I wasn't there when I needed to be to stop the Governor. I mean, I showed up, put a bullet in his head, but the damage was already done."

Maggie looked down, sniffling as she remembered her father's death. "Oh, Maggie," Clary said, taking a seat on the couch beside her. "I'm sorry. I didn't think. You know how I am. I don't have a filter. I shouldn't've said that."

"It's alright," Maggie told her, placing a hand on her arm after she spun. "I know you didn't mean to." She looked to Rick and Glenn. "Left hand, green." Maggie looked back at Clary. "It's okay, Clary. Really."

"You sure?" Clary asked.

"Yeah." Maggie nodded as she spun again. "Right foot, yellow."

"Oh, no," Rick groaned, remembering it was the same move that caused him to lose the last time they played. Rick reached his right foot around his left, trying to get it on a yellow spot. His arms gave out, and he dropped back onto the floor with a thud. Glenn got up, then pulled Rick to his feet.

Maggie chuckled to herself as she called, "Abraham, Eugene! You're up!"

As the two stepped onto the mat, Tara remarked, "They should've done this on the road."

Maggie looked to her. "Why do you think I paired them up? Left foot, blue!"

It quickly became apparent that Eugene was not very good at Twister, and it didn't take long before he gave up. Abraham stood, grinning as he won. It was Carl and Carol next, and Carol's Twister skills hadn't improved since the last time they played, resulting in a win for Carl. Clary and Noah stepped up, the last of the sixteen that started out. "This wasn't really fair," Clary said as they put their right hand on green. "I mean, you've got me goin' up against Noah, who's got a limp."

"Don't you pity me," Noah replied. "I can still kick your ass."

"Alright," Clary said, grinning. "Just know, you asked for it."

"Oh, please," Noah returned. "Can you even reach green from red?"

"You've never heard the stories, then," Carl said, leaning against a wall as he watched his girlfriend on the mat. "Handstands, backbends. She's flexible." Clary looked at Carl, winking, before looking back at the mat. Carl shook his head, sighing, "Cheyenne."

"What?" she asked innocently, glancing over her shoulder at him as she put her right foot in the air. "I didn't do anything."

While Clary didn't have a problem with it, putting his right foot in the air meant Noah was balancing on his bad ankle. He gave in, dropping back onto the mat. Clary stood, pulling Noah to his feet. "Take back what you said yet?" she questioned.

Noah chuckled. "Let's see what else you can do first."

Maggie finished writing names of the victors from the first round in her notebook, looking around at them. "Everyone ready?" She received nods. "Michonne, Aaron, you're up first." The two stepped up to the mat. "Left hand, green."

They put their left hands on green spots, starting their game. It was uneventful, Aaron eventually losing when Michonne boxed him out from reaching a spot. "Everyone's favorite wisecrackers are up next," Maggie announced.

"Well, I know I'm one of 'em," Clary said, getting up from where she sat on the edge of Daryl's chair. "Question is, am I up against Abe or Tara?"

"Tara," Maggie told her with a chuckle.

Tara and Clary faced each other, each on one side of the mat. Rosita said, "Kick her ass!"

The two girls turned to face her, as Clary said the same thing earlier. Mockingly, Clary asked, "Which one?"

Rosita gave them a grin, and Tara and Clary shook their heads. Tara told Maggie, "Spin, please."

Maggie spun, announcing, "Right foot, yellow."

They put their right feet on yellow, then their left hands on red. Somehow, they ended up with one foot and one hand in the air. To Clary, they looked like they were recreating the Superman pose, so she murmured, "Clark Kent, give me strength."

"Did you say 'Clark Kent give me strength?'" Tara repeated, laughing.

Clary looked up at her. "Uh, no." At that, Tara laughed again, and fell over. "Thank you, Superman."

"Oh, you little shit!" Tara cried, pushing Clary over. Clary chuckled as she hit the ground, Tara looking to Maggie. "Who's next?"

"Carl and Glenn," Maggie answered. Clary and Tara got up as their best friends stepped onto the mat, sitting back to watch.

"You know," Glenn said as he put his right foot on blue, "you only lasted longer the last time we played 'cause your girlfriend was helping you."

Carl leaned down to put his right hand on green, retorting, "You only won last time 'cause you sat on my girlfriend."

The group sucked in their breath as the trash talking finally began, and they weren't holding back. Carl eventually won, and the two stepped off as Daryl and Abraham stepped on. The two men had an interesting game, Abraham showing off his creative cursing skills while Daryl kicked his ass. The Dixon won, the two stepping off the mat as Maggie wrote down the names of the winners for the next round. Maggie chuckled to herself as she wrote, then announced, "Rematch time! Michonne, Daryl, you're up!"

"Don't you dare push me over again," Michonne said as the two stepped up.

"I've denied that since the moment your ass hit the ground," Daryl retorted. "I did _not_ push you over. You fell, and I should've won, but _someone_ said I was cheating."

"That's because you were!" Michonne cried as they placed their right hands on blue. The group was on edge as they watched the match, until Daryl blocked Michonne as she tried to reach a yellow spot. She couldn't get it in time, the group having reached the end of the countdown before she finally got her foot on it. "Son of a bitch!"

"See?" Daryl asked, giving her a smug smirk. "I _can_ win without cheating."

"Wait a second," Clary whispered to herself as she realized who she'd be going up against. "Oh, bless you, Maggie."

"Clary!" Maggie called. "You're up against Carl!"

The two high-fived as they reached the mat, Clary saying, "It's serious this time, darlin'. I ain't helpin' you if we gotta do a handstand."

"I don't expect you to," Carl replied, crouching as they put their left hand on red. A few spins in, unbeknownst to the two, Maggie abandoned using the spinner in an effort to twist the two up even more.

It was working.

Clary ended up on top of Carl this time, and she used it to her advantage. She subtly distracted Carl while she kept her focus on the game. While reaching for a spot, Clary's lips ghosted across Carl's, until he gave in and kissed her. He removed a hand from the mat, wrapping it around her waist. It resulted in an automatic loss for Carl, so he dropped down to the mat, pulling Clary with him. Meanwhile, Tara was cheering her friend on, calling, "Yeah, girl! Get some!"

Clary lifted her head, rolling off of Carl. "Tara."

"Sorry, but not really."

"Of course you're not," Clary sighed, getting to her feet. She pulled Carl to his feet, who muttered, "You cheated."

"I did no such thing," Clary said. "I didn't make you take your hand off the mat." Clary turned to look at her brother, who stood across the room. "It's just you and me now, big brother."

"Oh, you're gonna go down," Daryl said, getting to his feet. "I'm gonna kick your ass like I did when we played poker."

"Why you stuck up, half-witted, scruffy looking, nerf herder!"

Daryl stopped at the other side of the mat, looking at her in disbelief. "Who's scruffy looking?"

Cheers erupted from everyone that knew the reference, Aaron laughing at the two and their antics. Maggie called out the first move, a left foot on green, and the two got to business. Daryl was just happy to have lasted this long in the championship, while Clary was playing to win. Still, Daryl didn't go down without a fight. The two went until they each had one foot and one hand in the air, and then Maggie called, "Left foot in the air!"

"Nope," Daryl said, allowing himself to drop to the ground. "I surrender."

"That's ridiculously anticlimactic," Tara complained.

"Yeah, but a handstand starting on one hand? That has to be impossible," Daryl returned.

Clary stood, then pulled Daryl to his feet. "I know I can do a handstand, but I don't think even the most athletic of us could do that."

"Clary Dixon is the winner of the Twister Championship," Maggie announced. "Clary, if you win the rematch, then you've got the Ultimate title."

"Oh, I intend to get it," Clary said, narrowing her eyes at Glenn as he stepped up. "Maggie, spin."

"And… right hand, blue."

The two placed their right hands on blue, glaring nonstop at each other throughout the entire round. Clary was obviously a little worn out from two games back to back, and she was starting the rematch tired. They each made a few mistakes that they thought would cost them the round, but they regained their stance. It wasn't until Clary made the mistake of placing her right hand on a green dot far away and then seeing the one right in front of her did she know she was going to lose. "Left hand, red!" Maggie called.

"Oh, son of a bitch!" Clary exclaimed, having to reach even farther to put her left hand on red. "Noah, you fuckin' jinxed me!" Clary reached, but she couldn't make it in time. The group counted down, reaching zero, and Glenn won the rematch. "Son of a dick nugget!"

"What is that even supposed to mean?!" Abraham cried.

Clary smirked. "Well, I might not've won the rematch, _but_ I did manage to confuse the master of creative cursing. That's a win in my book."

"Five minute break?" Glenn asked. "Then the Ultimate Twister Champion?"

"Holy shit, that's right!" Tara cried. "Clary won the championship, Glenn won the rematch! They're going up against each other again!"

There were cries of disbelief from the group, everyone collectively losing their shit at Tara's statement. While Glenn took a seat on the couch next to Maggie, Clary simply laid on the mat. "I am not moving for the next five minutes," she declared.

Chuckles went through the group, and about two minutes later, Glenn said, "This game, it's all or nothing."

Clary lifted her head. "No spin is banned. If the spinner says we have to do handstand with one hand, then we're doing it."

"Agreed," Glenn approved. "You ready yet, Indy?"

Clary got up, grinning. "Hells yeah, Short Round."

Glenn stood, both of them on opposite sides of the mat. "This is it," he said. "This is where we know which of us is the true master of Twister. This crown will be mine."

"In your dreams," Clary retorted.

Maggie announced, "Left foot, yellow!"

They did as Maggie said, neither speaking. It was serious now, even more serious than their first rematch. Neither held back, determined to win. _Right hand on yellow, left hand on blue._ It looked like Glenn was about to win, then Maggie called for them to put a foot in the air, resulting in handstands. Clary was barely phased, but Glenn's arms started to shake. Maggie announced, "Right hand in the air!"

Glenn tried to get his right hand up, but he immediately collapsed, having barely been able to do the handstand. Clary, however, lifted her right hand off the mat. She held her position, eyes closed, focused on nothing but her balance. From his spot on the ground, Glenn relented, "If you can do a one handed handstand, you _deserve_ to be Ultimate Twister Champion."


	18. Bonfire

**Season 5:**

 **Bonfire**

Glenn, Tara, Noah, and I all breathe a sigh of relief when that stupid fucking dubstep song ends. Of course, about that time, another one starts.

" _Nasty let it down  
_ _Will never let it on  
_ _Do not burn girl I'll be nasty let it down  
_ _Meh sweat drops, from the dark me love me sanity  
_ _Let me take tha matches down you'll will never let it on  
_ _Bo bo bo bo bon bonfire"_

The others groan, while I crack a grin. I instantly recognize the song as "Bonfire" by Knife Party. Jesse once told me a story, on the night we were reunited, about this song. Heisenberg once bought muscle cars for himself and his son, Walter Jr. The two drove home, Walter Jr. blaring this song as he drove behind his father. When Jesse told me the story, he was shocked that I knew the song and the band. I said that I blamed the Widmores for making me listen to it.

As the song continues, the other still frowning, I laugh. I throw my fist in the air, shouting, "Yeah, Mister White! Yeah, science, bitch!"

I get a look of total confusion and laugh again, explaining, "It's an inside joke I had with a friend." I look at Glenn. "With Jesse."

"Oh, my god," Glenn laughs, knowing immediately who I'm talking about. "What did you two even talk about?"

"Heisenberg," I say. "And this goddamn song."

On the floor of the van, I drum along to the beat. Tara joins in after watching a few seconds, mimicking me. In time to the music, everyone shouts, _"BO BO BO BO BON BONFIRE!"_


	19. Invasion of Alexandria

**Season 6:**

 **Invasion of Alexandria**

 _ **~Carl~**_

"Carl!" I hear Clary's call, and I rush outside at the sound of her voice. "Carl!"

"Clary?" I ask, running down the stairs to meet her. "What's going on? Is it over?"

"No, not close," she pants. "Is everything okay here? I heard a shot this way."

"It's okay," I reply. "We're okay."

"Just stay—"

Clary's cut off by a gunshot, and she falls against me. "Clary!" I cry, catching her. "Clary, oh god!"

I look over her shoulder to find one of the Wolves, immediately knowing that it was him that shot her. I swing my machine gun onto my shoulder, firing at the enemy through my hazy vision. He drops to the ground, and I drop my gun, dropping down beside Clary. "Someone help!" I yell, looking around for anyone. "Help!"

"Clary," I whisper, turning back to look at her. Her eyes are closed, blood quickly staining the back of her shirt. She's losing blood, and fast. I yell, "Help! Someone!"

"Carl!" I hear someone call, and look over my shoulder to see Aaron and Rosita running down the street, towards us.

"It's Clary!" I cry. "Please!"

Rosita takes my arm, pulling me to my feet as Aaron takes my place, picking her up. "Oh, Daryl's gonna be _pissed_ ," he mutters.

"Carl, get inside," Rosita orders. "You've got to protect Judith." I try to protest as she pushes me towards the stairs, but she cuts me off. "Just do it, Carl! You won't be any help in the infirmary!"

"Rosita, we gotta go!" Aaron cries. "She's losing a lot of blood!"

Rosita turns to leave, but I grab her arm before she can. "She's O-Positive!" I rush. "You got that? O-Positive!"

"Inside, now!" Rosita barks. I swallow my fear for Clary, turning and rushing inside, leaving my best friend and girlfriend's fate in their hands.

* * *

 _ **~Aaron~**_

As I run towards the infirmary, Rosita covering us, my grip on Clary starts slipping. I stop for a moment, readjusting her in my arms. She lets out a moan of pain as I start running again, and I apologize, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Clary. Just hang in there."

We rush into the infirmary, stopping short when I realize that Denise is already dealing with Holly. "Oh, shit," Rosita breathes.

That's when Eugene steps up, pushing a gurney over. "I know what to do," he says. "Give her to me."

"Can you do this?" Rosita questions as I lay Clary down on the table. "Because if you can't, and she dies because she's lost a hell of a lot of blood, then you're dead. Nothing on earth will stop Daryl from killing you."

"What's her blood type?" Eric questions. "I'm O-Positive. If she's positive, she stands a chance."

"It's a damn good thing you're O," I say, looking up at him. "'Cause so is she." I look over at Eugene. "The bullet's still in there. This isn't just stitching her up. You've gotta take the bullet out." I kneel in front of Clary, gently tapping her cheek to try to get her to respond. "Clary, hey, Clary. You still with us?"

"Aaron?" she whispers, her eyes fluttering open to look at me.

"Hey, you're gonna be okay," I tell her. "Eugene's gonna take care of you. He knows what to do."

She closes her eyes, swallowing past the pain in her shoulder. "Rock of Ages."

"What?"

"She means me," Eugene says, kneeling beside me to face Clary. "Yeah?"

"No painkillers," she mutters. "Save 'em for the others."

"Clary," I tell her. "We have more than enough."

"Right now you do. I ain't gonna be the only one injured. Save 'em."

"Aaron, c'mon," Rosita says, taking my arm. "Eugene will take care of her. If he doesn't, I'll shoot him myself. The Wolves are still out there."

I hesitantly get to my feet, then turn and follow Rosita out. I put my faith in Eugene, praying that he knows what he's doing.

* * *

 _ **~Eugene~**_

"Tara, I'm gonna need you to hold her down," I tell my assistant, as I get the supplies I'm going to need ready. "Clary, we've gotta get your shirt off. I can't see what I'm doing with it on."

"I should warn you," she whispers in reply. "My back, it's covered in scars from my dad 'n' the Governor. Don't be surprised."

I nod once, even though I know she can't see me, and Tara gently helps the youngest Dixon get her shirt off. "You ready?" I ask.

"Get it over with," Clary mutters. I wipe some of the blood away from her right shoulder, and Tara nods once, silently telling me that she has her hold on Clary. She lets out the scream of a child in pain as I try to dig the bullet out. I freeze, and she barks, "Keep going!"

When I finally get it out, she's on the edge of passing out. Tara gently taps her cheek, telling her, "Hey, he got it, Clary. It's out."

"Fan-friggin-tastic," comes her reply, and I chuckle at her wording. I grab the peroxide beside me, pouring some on her wound to clean it without warning. She lets out a yell, and Tara barks, "Stop it! You're hurting her!"

I pull the peroxide away, and Clary says, "Eugene."

"Yeah?" I inquire.

"Do what you need to," she orders. "I can take it."

I wipe the peroxide away, warning her that I'm about ready to start stitching her up. About a quarter of the way in, she passes out. "Shit," Tara says. "But she's still breathing. Keep going, Eugene."

"I'm kinda surprised she lasted this long," Eric remarks as he sets up the tube for the blood transfusion. "Especially with the blood loss."

"Really?" Tara says. "I thought she was going to last longer. But there is the blood loss to take into consideration."

"Eric," I say, glancing up at him. "Are you ready? She needs it, and soon or she'll go into shock."

"Yeah," he says, and I continue stitching Clary's wound as Tara gives him a hand hooking the tube up for the transfusion.

* * *

 _ **~Carl~**_

As soon as I know for sure that everything's over, I take off, leaving Judith with Carol, and head straight for the infirmary. I ignore the bodies on the ground, jumping over one or two as I run across streets and push through yards. I find that Aaron beat me here, and I knew that Eric was heading here before it started. "How is she?" I ask, starting towards her.

"She'll be okay," Eric assures me, watching as I gently tuck a quilt over her, knowing how much she hates people seeing her back. I take a seat on the edge of the bed, putting my head in my hands. I look up when Aaron rests a hand on my shoulder, and he asks me, "What about you, Carl? Are you okay?"

I nod, looking between the two. "Thank you both. She's still alive because of you."

"More like Eugene," Eric says. "He was the one that took the bullet out, stitched her up. I just happened to be the same blood type."

"Really?" I question. "Eugene?"

Eric nods once, then gets to his feet. He walks out after taking another look at Clary, and Aaron follows him. I move to the chair Eric was sitting in, the closest to her, and lean back, waiting. I close my eyes, trying to relax a little, but open them when I hear her voice.

"Oh, that hurts a hell of a lot more than I thought it would."

"Cheyenne," I breathe, leaning forward. I kiss her forehead, looking down when her hand bumps mine. I take it, gently squeezing it. "I'm here. I'm here, Clary." I pull back, pressing my lips to her hand. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"How long have I been out?" she inquires, opening her eyes to look at me.

"Little over an hour."

"Were you here the whole time?"

"No. I got here about ten minutes ago. Aaron and Eric stayed with you. Aaron carried you here. You're really lucky Eric is O-Positive. Do you know Eugene stitched you up?"

"Yeah. If you see Aaron and Eric, tell 'em thanks for me."

"You're welcome," Aaron says, stepping inside.

Clary smiles at the sound of his voice, and he steps into her field of vision. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," he says softly. He kneels beside her, brushing her hair back. "How do you feel? On a scale of one to ten?"

"I'm fine, Aaron."

"Clary."

"It hurts," she admits. "A lot. Ten being the worst, it's like a seven-point-nine. I still won't take any pain meds, though. I'm not getting caught off guard."

"I didn't think you would," Aaron tells her, sitting back down in the chair he was in when I arrived. "Try not to move your shoulder a whole lot. You don't want to tear the stitches."

"That, and it'll hurt like hell," I add.

"Also that," Aaron agrees. "But you should be good to get up, if you want."

"Give me a hand?" she requests. "One of you?"

I help her up, and she holds her arm to her chest, trying her hardest not to move it, as well as cover herself. I shrug my flannel shirt off, leaving me in a plain grey t-shirt, and help Clary put it on. "Better?" I question.

"Yeah," she says, wincing as she moves her injured arm while putting on my shirt.

"I think I have an idea," Aaron says. "Would you be against wearing a sling? It'd keep you from moving your arm, help it heal."

"Guess not," she replies, and Aaron turns, disappearing inside the closet. I look down at her to find her grinning, and knowing exactly what she's thinking, I tell her, "Clary, don't do it."

Aaron steps out of the closet, and Clary blurts out, "Wow, Aaron's out of the closet!"

"Oh, that's a new low," I sigh. "Especially for you. You're so short."

Aaron snorts, then grins at her. "Honestly, I'm glad you made that joke. It would've been a missed opportunity if you hadn't."


	20. Dear Baby Judith

**I apologize for this and for future chapters written based on musicals.**

* * *

 **Season 6:**

 **Dear Baby Judith**

"Clary," Rick says, and I look up at the sound of his voice. "You haven't spoken to Daryl since he got back. Or Glenn. Go. It's okay." I shake my head, going back to gently brushing Carl's hair out of his face. "Hey." I look up again. "I'll get you if there's any change, okay?"

"You swear?" I ask.

"On my life," he replies.

I lean down, pressing my lips to Carl's forehead. "Please," I whisper yet again. "Please, wake up."

As usual, I get no answer. I sigh softly, walking out the door after hugging Rick goodbye. A lot of the new, extended team, the people from Alexandria, were still waiting outside the infirmary for any news. They all looked to me as I exited, their voices silent but their gazes asking everything. "Nothing yet," I tell them. "Anyone know where Daryl is?"

"Your house," Eric tells me. "You want me to walk with you?"

"No," I say with a shake of my head. "I think I want to be alone for a little, ya know? The rest of you, just go home."

Aaron puts out a hand to stop me as I start off, pulling me into a hug. "I don't know if anyone's thanked you yet, but you saved the town."

"I couldn't have done it without y'all fightin'," I tell him. "I just listened to Heath over there. Ain't nobody was takin' our town, dead or alive."

Eric wraps his arms around the two of us, and one by one, the rest of our family joins in to make one giant group hug. I'm squished in the center of it all, and I don't like being in the center. I say, "Uh, guys, can't really breathe, so if you don't let go, I'm gonna start stabbin'."

Chuckles go through the group, but they let me go. "Promise you'll tell us if there's any change," Carol requests.

"As soon as I know, you will," I promise. "Go home, everyone. Get some rest. We could all use some after the fucking week we had."

Without waiting to see if they disband, I walk off, running for my house as soon as I'm out of sight. When I enter, Daryl and Michonne are the only two in the house, not including Judith. Daryl, as usual, is watching out the window. Michonne holds Judith, trying to get her to sleep so Michonne can leave. "Clary," Michonne says, turning to me as soon as I enter. "Can you get her to sleep? I want to go check on Rick and Carl. Judith won't go to sleep for me now."

It takes me a second to process what she's saying. "Uh, yeah, sure," I say, taking Judith. "Um, I, uh." I stop talking, unable to form a full sentence as my mind drifts to Carl back at the infirmary. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry. It's just…"

"I get it," Michonne says. "It's fine. I'll be back soon, okay?"

I nod, and Michonne kisses my forehead. She's out the door within thirty seconds, taking off down the street. I shift Judith, putting her on my hip, as I make my way over to Daryl. I nudge his arm with my shoulder, getting his attention. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," he greets. Daryl wraps an arm around my shoulders, resting his hand on Judith. He pulls me against him, kissing my temple, just above the scar from when we fell down the ravine. 'You okay?"

"Gotta be, right?" I ask, avoiding an actual answer. "I'm just glad you're back. Where's your bow? And your bike?"

"That's a story for another day," he tells me, turning away from the window. "For now, I gotta take a nap. I'm gettin' too old for this shit."

"Daryl, you're, like, thirty."

"It's too old." I give him a small smile, and he smiles in reply to mine. He wraps his other arm around me, hugging me close, careful to not squish Judith. "I'll be right here, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere. You need anything, you know where I am."

"Of course," I reply, "Now, go get some sleep." Daryl disappears into his room, and I look down at Judith. "It's just you and me, huh? Yeah." Judith lets out a yawn, but she forces herself to stay awake. "I think it's your naptime, Lil Ass-Kicker."

Judith babbles something that sounds like "Carl" before she yawns, and I know it won't take much to get her to fall asleep. I frown at her asking for her brother, because who's going to make her understand that her big brother isn't here anymore if he doesn't survive? She's so young, and she doesn't even know what all she's lost. She doesn't know of the world that came before this one. She doesn't know that there was a time when we didn't face the dangers we face now. As I rock her, I softly sing whatever's on my mind.

" _Dear baby Judith, how to say to you  
_ _Sometime last night, your brother faced a foe  
_ _And I thought it was all for show  
_ _I don't know if he'll survive  
_ _He might not even be alive  
_ _Your father's son may be... gone"_

I let out a sob at the last line, one I didn't realize I was holding back. I pull myself together, continuing with the impromptu lullaby.

" _He dedicated every day to you  
_ _He changed my life, he made my life worthwhile  
_ _And if you'll smile  
_ _Our beloved Carl will live on  
_ _Give me strength to carry on_

 _You will come of age with our new nation  
_ _I've bled and fought for you  
_ _Sometimes it seems that's all I do  
_ _Your dad and I will build a strong foundation  
_ _But I might not be here for you  
_ _Do a favor for me, make sure they see  
_ _When you blow 'em all away_

 _Some day, one day  
_ _You'll blow 'em all away  
_ _Someday, one day"_

"I hope I live to see that day," I whisper, kissing the top of her head as she slumps against me, asleep. I put Judith down in her playpen in the living room, turning with a jump when a voice behind me says, "It feels like forever since I've heard you sing."

"Oh, my god," I say between breaths, trying to calm down as I realize it's just Glenn. "You scared the hell outta me."

"My bad," he says as he takes a few steps into the living room. "I don't know if I've told you, but you have a beautiful voice." I mumble a thanks. "You okay?"

This time, I don't lie. I shake my head, whispering, "No."

"C'mere," Glenn says, holding out an arm. I rest my head against his chest, closing my eyes as he wraps his arms around me. "It'll be okay. I know it will be. It has to be. Carl'll make it through. He's strong."

"What if he doesn't?"

"He will. But you're strong, too. You'll be okay. We're all going to be okay, Clary. We deserve it, after all we've been through?"

"Is this my punishment?" I question. "For all the shit I've done?"

"No," Glenn says, shaking his head. "No. So stop talking like that. You've done what you needed to do to survive. You always have." Glenn takes a seat on the couch, pulling me down with him. "You've done nothing wrong."

We're quiet for a few minutes, and I find myself curled up beside Glenn, nearly sitting in his lap. "Do you ever think about it?" I ask.

"Think about what?" Glenn inquires.

"An alternate life. One where we're happy? Safe? Where we're having Sunday dinner instead of Sunday walker killing? And maybe some of the others are alive. Maybe Shane and Lori are there, together. I almost hate to say it, but I saw it. And Carl told me about before. Those two were happier together than Rick and Lori were."

"Do you still think about Shane?" Glenn asks.

"He taught me a lot," I admit. "He taught me how to stay alive. I mean, I already knew how to stay alive. I wouldn't have made it Macon if I hadn't. But Shane, he taught me more. He made me realize that the world's not what it was anymore. It's something new, and the old laws, the old morals, don't apply. Shane taught me how to keep breathing in a world where everything wanted to take that away. I just... I wish he hadn't gone crazy."

"Does it make you wonder if teaching you to stay alive was the _only_ thing Shane taught you?"

"What the hell are you implying?"

"Hey, I'm just asking. I don't mean anything by it. I think you're more like Shane than we've all realized. I mean, I've seen it come out in you more than once. Like last night, your blind rage? I'm pretty sure Shane did the same, at least once. Do you wonder if you're going to end up like him?"

"No," I answer, shaking my head. "I try not to think too much about my end. Where I'm going to end up, how my life will end. I just try not to think about it all. It's hard, considering if you don't die right, you end up one of those sorry fucks on the other side of the wall. How about you? You think about an afterlife?"

"I don't know," Glenn admits. "I never believed in a God, so I never believed in a Heaven or Hell. You?"

"Atheists United. The saga continues."

Glenn lets out a halfhearted chuckle. "Now, I think there has to be a place. At least, somewhere we can all be together."

"I like to think Lori's watching over Sophia. Hershel's watching over them all. And the Governor's burning in whatever passes for a Hell anymore. I don't know how it could be much worse, considering we're already living in it."

"Do you… do you remember that night at the quarry?" Glenn questions. "The night I ran around the camp, looking for you?" I nod. "I still have that dream. You being eaten by them. Back at the prison, when we thought you died… I thought it came true. I thought you died screaming for help with no one to hear you, torn apart by those things."

"You don't even want to know the nightmares I have," I tell him. "Carl, he always woke me up before they got too bad. You know, when I'd sleep next to Daryl, I'd almost never have any."

"How long has it been since you slept? More than four hours worth?"

"Uh, I haven't grabbed more than an hour, if that, since… When did Aiden die?"

"A week ago! Christ, Clary!" Glenn cries. "Alright, that's it. Go to sleep."

"I have to be there for Carl!" I plead.

"I'll go, and I'll stay," Glenn says. "I'll come get you as soon as Carl wakes up."

"You don't get it," I say softly. "That's not why I have to be there. Rick isn't strong enough. You said it yourself, I'm strong. I can, if I have to."

The color drains from his face as he realizes the meaning behind my words. "Clary…"

"I'm sorry, I have to go," I say, getting to my feet. "I can't leave him for long."

"I'll walk you," Glenn offers, pushing himself off the couch. "But what about Judith?"

"She's asleep. If she wakes up, Daryl's here."

"Is he? Where?"

"His room, taking a nap. Old goat."

Glenn chuckles, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as we walk back to the infirmary. I glance up at Glenn as we walk. "Why'd you come with me?" I ask.

"You needed someone there for you," he replies. "That's always been my job. Being there when you need someone."

I lean into him, whispering, "Thank you."

It's then that I know the most defining difference between Glenn and I. We both have different jobs. I'm the guardian and he's the safety net. Glenn's there for people when they need someone the most, while I do my duty and protect.


	21. With Love, Rosita Espinosa

**Season 6:**

 **With Love, Rosita Espinosa**

Jesus pats the spot beside him as he sits in the grass. When I take a seat beside him, he pulls me down so we're both lying on backs, looking up at the stars. "When I was little, my mom used to tell me that if I was ever scared, just look up at the sky," Jesus tells me. "'No matter if it's night or day, just look up, and it'll be okay.' That's what she always told me. Just wait for the sun to go down, for it to come up, whatever, and you'll make it through it." Jesus props himself up on his elbow, leaning over me. "We'll make it through this, Clary. We will." With his free hand, he gestures up to the night sky above us. "Just look up."

I find myself looking up at him instead of the sky, trusting him over the stars to keep me going through tomorrow. He lets out a bit of a chuckle when I suddenly wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. Jesus wraps one arm around me, using the other to keep himself up, from falling on me. "It's gonna be alright," he whispers. "We'll be okay. We all will. We'll make it through."

"How can you be so sure?" I question.

"I can't be sure that we'll be okay, but I have to believe that we will." Jesus's arm starts to shake from holding up our combined weights, and he drops down beside me, rolling onto his back. I curl up next to him, resting my head against his shoulder. "My mom, she loved astrology, constellations, anything to do with space. It was always just the two of us. During summer, we'd lay in the grass, just like us now, looking up at the stars. We'd find constellations or make up our own. My mom made up this one about a warrior princess that no matter what happened to her, she kept going. There was nothing in the world she cared more about than her family and her people, so she always fought to keep them safe." Jesus pauses, chuckling. "Wow. I never realized it, but Hedwig sounds a lot like you."

"'Hedwig?'" I question, glancing over at him.

"Yeah. It basically comes from German words that mean 'struggle' and 'warrior.'"

"It's also the name of Harry Potter's owl."

Jesus chuckles. "Yeah, that too." Jesus points up to the sky. "Here, look. That star by the handle of the Big Dipper, that's the tip of her bow. And if you follow that, you see her arm, and then the rest of her."

I let Jesus talk as I lay with my head on his shoulder, listening. He points out constellations, real ones and ones he made up. I slowly start to fall asleep, but I'm rudely awaken when I hear Eugene say, "Clary!"

I sit up with a start, saying, "What? No, I wasn't sleeping." I look up at Eugene. "Eugene? What's going on?"

"Come with me," he says, reaching down to pull me up.

I take his hand, starting to get worried. "Eugene, what's going on?"

"It's Rosita," he says.

"What happened?" I demand as Jesus gets to his feet.

"I don't know. She's upset and I'm not good with that kind of thing."

"And what makes you think I'm qualified?"

"You care about us all. Under all that anger, you're truly compassionate and a sweetheart. Also, you're a Grade A Badass. So it's right in your field."

I sigh as Eugene starts back to his house, waiting for me to follow. I drop back with Jesus as I whisper, "This is _so_ not my division."

Jesus chuckles as he tags along, following Eugene and I into the house he shares with Rosita, Abraham, and a few others. He leads us down the hall to Rosita's room, where I can hear Rosita inside, crying. I glance to Eugene as he gestures towards the door. I lean towards the door as I knock, softly calling, "Rosita? Hey, it's Clary. Um, look, I'm not really good with this kind of thing, but Eugene's worse and he had the common sense to come find me." I can hear Rosita let out a soft chuckle before another sob. "Uh, can I come in? I can tell Eugene and Jesus to stay outside."

I stepback as Rosita opens the door, her eyes on Jesus. She asks, "What's he doing here?"

"Clary and I were having a moment that Eugene ruined," Jesus says. "So I just tagged along."

Rosita steps aside, allowing me to enter her room. Rosita takes a seat on her bed, and I close the door behind me. I remember how Rosita reverts to Spanish when she's upset, so I switch to the language as I ask, "Did someone hurt you?" Rosita looks up, her surprise showing. "Yeah, I know. Surprise, surprise. The redneck is fluent in Spanish. Are you hurt?"

"Physically, no," Rosita answers.

I take a seat on the bed with her. "Then what happened? Whose ass do I have to kick?"

"Abraham," Rosita says, sniffling. "Abraham happened."

"Oh, _muñeca_ ," I say, switching back to English as Rosita did the same.

"I am _not_ a _muñeca._ "

"Shut up and let me make you feel better. This isn't my field. I'm trying here, okay?" Rosita lets out a shaky laugh. "Okay?"

"Okay," Rosita says.

"Alright. Now, tell me what the fuck he did, _muñeca._ "

"He just… he broke up with me, out of the blue," Rosita tells me. "And he said some things that… It was just so unlike him! I mean, I know he can be a dick, but that was the worst thing he's ever said. He said that when we first met, he thought I was the last woman on Earth. Now, he 'knows that I'm not.'"

"What a fucking asshole!" I shout, getting to my feet. "Where the hell is he? I got a bone to pick!"

"Wait, you're really gonna go kick his ass?" Rosita asks.

"Hell yes! You don't go breakin' my girl's heart!"

Rosita scoffs. "I thought Tara was your girl."

"You both are. Now, I gotta give someone hell." I crack my knuckles. "Where is Abraham?"

* * *

"Abraham Ford!" I shout as I see him walking down a street. He turns as I take off towards him, Jesus tagging along behind me. As soon as I reach him, I throw a punch. Abraham drops his bag in surprise as Jesus calls, "Kick his ass!"

"What the hell, Dixon?" Abraham demands.

"What the hell, Ford?" I return. "What the fuck is wrong with you? What kind of person tells their girlfriend that they only liked her because they thought she was the 'last woman on Earth?' You broke her fuckin' heart!"

"I won't deny that I said that," Abraham says. "I truly did believe she was the last woman on this planet."

"Get out of my sight before I put a bullet between your eyes," I growl.

Abraham shakes his head and turns away, saying, "She's not the only woman on Earth."

I kick him so hard in the ass that he falls on his face. He rolls onto his back as I stand over him, growling, "Your ex that you _never_ deserved told me to do that. With love, Rosita Espinosa."

I turn and walk away, high-fiving Jesus as I pass him. He follows behind me, saying, "Eugene's right. You are a Grade A Badass."


	22. Fate Brought Us Here

**Season 6:**

 **Fate Brought Us Here**

Clary thought she'd be able to last longer behind the walls of Alexandria, but it turned out that she was wrong. After the slaughter of the Saviors, she wasn't sure how long she'd be able to stay cooped up inside Alexandria. She figured on a week at the most, but it turned out that she was ready to escape the walls the day after they got back, the second day after the killings.

As usual, she woke up to Carl bouncing his tennis ball, the PT that Denise recommended, and was getting ready to leave before the clock hit eleven in the morning. Glenn watched her as she placed her crossbow in its spot on her motorcycle, attempting to stop her on the porch before she could go back into the house for her bag. "Hey, wait," Glenn said as she pushed around him. "Clary."

She didn't look back at him, instead picking up her bag and checking that she had everything she needed. "Yeah?" Clary questioned.

"You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Everything that happened the other day, with the Saviors. I mean, you killed all those people in one night, Clary. Excuse me for being worried about you."

At that, she looked up. "You said that to me before. The day we met. We were on our way to Atlanta."

"I was worried then, and I'm worried now," Glenn said softly. "Clary, I need to know." He leaned across the kitchen island to take her hands. "I need to know you're okay."

"I'm okay, Glenn," she assured him. "I promise, I'm okay."

"None of that matters if you don't come back. You're only okay when you're here with us."

"I can't stay. I can't be behind these walls any longer. I'm gonna go crazy. I have to be out there."

"No, you need to be in here. What it does to you, when you're out there… That's not who you are."

"Glenn, I was made for out there." She shook her head, looking down at their hands. "No, not out there. There isn't an 'out there.' There's just land separated by walls. It's the same in here as it is out there. There's kids in here, armed, just like there are out there. There's killers in here and out there. It's all the same, only the names change. It's all this world, the new world, like Jesus said. And this is the world that I belong in. I was just made for it."

"Clary," he sighed. Glenn paused, then released her hands. He walked around the island, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on top of her head. "Just come back. Please. And watch your back. You're out there alone."

"I said it before, and I'll say it again. For you, a thousand times over."

"Thank you," Glenn whispered, kissing her forehead. "C'mon, I'll walk you to the armory."

Clary followed Glenn out of the house, and he waited for her and she put up the kickstand on her motorcycle, walking it as they made their way to the armory. Glenn followed her inside, smiling softly at Olivia as they passed. He stood to the side, watching as Clary filled extra magazines for her Beretta, placing them in her bag. "You have Merle's switch?" he questioned, glancing towards the knives.

"I don't go anywhere without it," Clary answered, gesturing down to her left boot, the place she kept it hidden while on runs. "You never know…"

"Is your walkie charged?" Glenn asked as they walked out, heading down the steps to her motorcycle. Clary put her aviators on, while Glenn, not expecting it to be this bright out, shaded his eyes with his hand. "You have food, water? In case you're out there longer than expected?"

"Glenn, I appreciate the concern, but I have everything," she told him, pushing her motorcycle with them towards the gate. Rosita was on gate duty that morning, and as soon as she caught sight of the duo, she called, "Going on a run already?"

"Can't stand being in here," Clary replied.

"Oh, we can't be _that_ bad," Aaron joked from his watch post. "I thought you liked us."

"Aaron," Clary sighed.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Hey, be careful out there."

"When am I not?"

"Oh, I can think of quite a few times," Rosita returned.

Clary sighed, shaking her head as she looked to Glenn. "Oh, come on! Not you, too!"

Glenn chuckled. "Hey, the first moment I met you, you were pushing through a dozen walkers to save some guy you didn't even know."

Clary scoffed, climbing on her motorcycle. "There's been calls that I've regretted, and never once have I regretted that one." Aaron awed, Rosita fanned herself with her hand while pretending to faint, and Glenn pretended to puke. "You're a little shit. You all are."

Glenn laughed, ruffling her hair. He stepped back so she could start her motorcycle. "Hey!" he suddenly called, and Clary looked at him. "Love you."

"Ditto, Short Round," she replied. Rosita rolled the gate open as Clary's Triumph roared to life, and she took off, leaving Alexandria. Glenn stood, watching her weave around the cars set up to stop walkers, until Rosita rolled the gate shut, cutting off his view. He turned away, closing his eyes as he walked back to his street. Like every time Glenn watched Clary leave Alexandria, he hoped that it wouldn't be the last time he'd see her.

* * *

Clary pulled off the road at a convenience store about fifteen miles east of Alexandria, taking her keys after turning off the engine and climbing off. She placed them in her pocket, making her way over to the storefront after scanning the surrounding area for the dead. She knocked on the glass, knowing the sound would draw any walkers inside. Clary pushed her glasses onto the top of her head, putting one hand on the glass and leaning against it, trying to see inside.

Clary sighed, seeing that the entire store was ransacked. There was nothing left. She turned away, starting back to her bike. Suddenly, she was knocked to the ground, and she heard stumbling footsteps to her right, her attacker having come from her left. Clary drew her gun as she got to her feet, aiming it at the enemy, not sure if they were living or dead. Her attacker laughed when he recognized her, pulling down the cloth that covered his face. "Looks like fate brought us here," Jesus said.

Clary lowered her gun, sighing. "We've gotta stop meeting like this."

"I heard your bike," Jesus laughed. "I thought it'd be nice to have at Hilltop."

"Wait," Clary muttered to herself, remembering the trick Jesus pulled when they first met. She felt her pockets, which turned out to be empty, then looked up as her bike was started. "You tried to steal my bike!"

Jesus laughed, starting to drive away, while Clary stood there, glaring at him. She knew he wasn't going to leave her behind without a form of transportation. He circled around, stopping in front of her. In a deepened voice, he said, "Going my way, doll?"

Clary laughed, starting towards him as she put on her sunglasses. "Is there any other way to go, daddio? Straight from the fridge, man!"

"A Rose girl!" Jesus laughed.

"That makes you Tennant, sweetheart."

"Fine by me. Ten's the best Doctor." Jesus scooted up some, gesturing for her to climb on behind him. "C'mon."

Clary climbed on her motorcycle behind her friend and ally, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Where are we goin'?"

"There's a store, a little ways from here. I haven't been in it. Don't know if your run team has been through."

"Nah, they only went west, south. We're east of Alexandria. Ain't been touched unless another group passed through."

It took the two about an hour to get to the store, said hour having been uneventful, and they pulled into the parking lot of a bargain outlet. "You think they'll have anything?" Clary questioned.

"Don't know," Jesus said, pounding on the glass door and waiting for any walkers to appear. "You see any inside?"

Clary took off her sunglasses, leaning against the window. "Can't tell for supplies, but there's two headless bodies. I mean, I can't see the heads. They're gone."

"That's… nice."

"Damn Wolves," Clary muttered, remembering the attack and the invasions. "Stupid fuckin' Jessie. Ron. Man, fuck him. Up the ass with a sandpaper dildo."

"I think that's the definition of cruel and unusual punishment," Jesus remarked, though slightly impressed by her thought process. "Who're Jessie and Ron?"

"They were these people from Alexandria. Jessie, she was married to Pete, who Rick killed 'cause he killed our old leader's husband. Ron was Jessie's oldest, and he was gunnin' for Rick after that, especially after Rick and Jessie hooked up."

"I thought he and Michonne were a thing."

"They are. This was a little over two months back. Anyways, part of our wall came down when a watch tower fell. Walkers had us surrounded outside the walls, enough to be twenty deep. They got in, and we tried to get out. We had to get our home back, one way or another. So we disguised ourselves, used guts to blend in. Sam, he was Jessie's youngest, got scared. He broke away from Rick and Jessie, walkers got him. I tried to save him. I couldn't lose another Sam, not the same way I lost my best friend. And then the walkers got Jessie, but she wouldn't let go of Carl. Rick cut off her hand, we all fell back, broke apart. I tried to tell 'em, tried to warn 'em that Ron had bullets in his gun. Carl didn't listen. Ron was gonna shoot Rick, 'chonne intervened. Stabbed him through the back, but the bastard still got a shot in. That's how Carl lost his eye."

"Oh my god. I knew something happened, but I didn't know it was something like that."

"I already thought Daryl and Glenn were dead, then Carl, too. I went off the deep end that night. It took me two years before I really lost it."

"You didn't lose it," Jesus said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Not really. I mean, you seem sane enough to me."

"Maybe you're just as sane as I am."

"Well, that's reassuring."

"How endearing." Jesus chuckled, looking down at the girl beside him to find her grinning slightly. "Really, though, I think the only thing that kept me from going completely insane was the two months that followed. Carl lived, Glenn and Daryl came back, and we didn't have a problem for two months. Then Rick, Daryl, and I had the misfortune of running into your ugly ass."

"I'll have you know, my ass is very nice," Jesus scoffed, looking down at her. He shook his head at her when she glanced up, a mischievous grin lighting up her face. "Is that what you used to look like? I mean, before all this? With that troublemaker grin? 'Cause I know you don't smile like that now."

Clary's smile faded as she looked down. "No. Not always. Occasionally, when I was with the Widmores. I've never had much of a reason to smile."

Jesus was silent for a moment, remembering her past, then placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. "C'mon, let's head inside."

They opened up the doors, the duo gagging at the stench. Over the two years of the apocalypse, they grew used to the smell of death and decay, but every now and then, there was a room, car, or building worse than usual, and this store was one of them. Clary coughed, shaking her head. "Ooh, that's rough."

"Let's leave the doors open," Jesus suggested, looking down at his companion.

"Yeah," Clary agreed. "That might be the best idea I've heard all day."

Together, they ventured into the store, knives drawn. Clary caught a glimpse of a holstered gun as Jesus drew his knife, and remarked, "Oh, so you did get one of the guns, then?"

"I didn't get it from _your_ armory, if that's what you're asking," Jesus replied. "I got it from the Saviors. You guys are well stocked. I didn't think you'd miss one little handgun and a couple of mags."

"Hey, take it easy," Clary said, holding up a hand. "No need to get all defensive. Damn. I was just saying, I noticed you got a gun." She shook her head. "My god." They ventured deeper into the store, Jesus shining his flashlight in each of the aisles. "I don't see any walkers. You haven't seen the two heads, have you?"

"Think someone took 'em?" Jesus asked as they separated down one aisle, one at each end. "As a prize?"

"Well, then they got one seriously fucked up trophy case. And I knew a dude that kept heads in fish tanks, according to Michonne."

Jesus shined his flashlight at her. "What kind of people do you hang with?"

"We weren't on the same side. You know how I freaked back at the compound…"

Clary trailed off, placing a hand on the bandana still tied around her neck, but Jesus got the gist. "That's what happened in Woodbury," Jesus said with a sigh, remembering Glenn mentioning the place.

"I didn't give up any information," Clary said, shaking her head slightly. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, swallowing before she said, "Not until he threatened Glenn. They could've killed me, and I would never have given up anything. But the second the Governor threatened to kill Glenn, I caved. I'd do anything for him, for my people. For you. You're one of us."

"What about my people? The ones at the Hilltop? Are they part of your group now?"

"I should've said _our_ people. And I mean it, this time. The last time, that night in Alexandria, I wasn't sure. But now I am. We're not in this together, as allies. We _are_ together, as one."

Jesus began to hum the iconic song from _High School Musical_ , "We're All in This Together _._ " Clary caught on, shaking her head as she called, "Get'cha head in the game, Bolton!"

Jesus laughed, picking up a basketball that someone left behind on a nearby shelf. He tore off the cardboard packaging, dribbling the ball. "What're you doing?" Clary asked.

"Getting my head in the game," Jesus replied simply. Clary let out a laugh as Jesus passed her the ball, the two tossing it back and forth. For a while, they forgot that they were out in the open, that walkers could be nearby. Clary suddenly froze, not passing the ball back to Jesus. "Clary?"

"Quiet," she hissed, listening. Then, she heard it. "Shit. Walkers." Jesus's face fell, knowing that Clary was the definition of serious now. Clary felt for her walkie at her belt, then barked, "Shit!"

"What?" Jesus asked.

"My walkie! Cover me!"

"No, cover me! You're a better shot!"

Together, the two took off for the doors, not even knowing before that moment how many there were. They froze when they saw all the walkers in the parking lot, and turned towards the storefront at the sound of movement. Clary whispered, "Oh my god."

"Cover me," Jesus repeated, taking off for her bike without waiting for an answer. He pushes through the walkers, grabbing the walkie talkie that was on her bike. He let out a cry as a walker that Clary didn't see grabbed him, pulling him back. "Dix!"

She fired without really aiming, her arrow barely missing Jesus. The walker fell to the ground, dead, nonetheless. "Come on!" Clary shouted.

Walkers followed him as he reached the storefront, grabbing Clary's arm and pulling her with him. They ran for the back of the store, searching for a place to hide. Walkers were on them by then, and Clary and Jesus were forced into the manager's office. Clary held the door shut, her back up against it. She closed her eyes, remembering how she was cornered at the nursing home in Atlanta. "Move!" Jesus barked.

Clary jumped out of the way just as he pushed the end of a desk against the door. She helped him brace the door with the wooden desk, hoping that it'd be enough. It was then that Clary noticed a lock on the door, sighing, "You've gotta be shitting me."

Clary climbed across the desk, locking the door, while Jesus slid down the opposite wall, panting. She sat against the desk, mirroring him. "You okay?" Jesus questioned as the room darkened, the sun finally going down.

"Don't ask me that," Clary replied, struggling to find her lighter in her jacket. She was shaking as she pulled it out, kneeling next to Jesus. He caught her arm, saying, "Hey, answer me. Are you okay?"

Clary ignored him, using her lighter to check if he was bitten. She only relaxed when he saw he wasn't, sighing in relief. "I am now," she said, dropping to the ground beside him. "I am now. You're okay?"

Jesus nodded. "Were you planning on being back in Alexandria tonight?"

"I was supposed to," Clary replied. "I mean, I've done this before. Gone off on my own, been gone for longer than I said I would be."

Jesus shook his head at her. "Where'd you go that time?"

"I, uh, I went back to the farm where we met Maggie. There were others we met, too, but they're dead now. We lost people there." Clary's hand drifted up, tightening around the necklace she took from Shane. "There was a guy, Shane Walsh. He and Rick were cops, they were partners. Rick was shot, wound up in a coma. When the shit hit, Shane got Rick's family out. Thought they belonged to him, and it really pissed him off when Rick came back. Dude lost it. Turned on all of us, but me and Rick the most. He tried to kill us. Rick, 'cause he wanted to take his place. Me, 'cause I said no when he asked me to work for him, a double agent. Wanted to cover his tracks. Rick killed him, and we left the farm that night 'cause of walkers."

"You still went back?" Jesus questioned, sitting forward.

"I wanted closure, I think. For Carol's girl, for Shane. Most of the people we lost there, we buried 'em. Shane, he wasn't. I went back, buried him myself. Found Jesse, too. Told the others I was goin' on a run."

"Who's Jesse?"

"My drug dealing best friend."

"What?"

"Shane never thought much of me, and then he _really_ didn't after he found out that I had ties to Jesse, Heisenberg, and Blue Sky. He thought I was a drug dealer."

"Were you?" Jesus questioned, and Clary gave him a look. "Sorry. Just asking."

"One week. I did it for one week. Jesse was short a man, he trusted me. Asked me to do it. Five Gs in one week, baby."

"So… you are a drug dealer?"

"No. I was just good friends with one. We ran into each other at the farm. He got bit when we went back to Woodbury. Shot, too. I sat with him the entire time." Clary shook her head. "I went back to the farm, then to Woodbury."

"What made you go back to Woodbury?"

"Lookin' for the Governor. Bastard killed my brother, my friend. I wanted revenge. I found him. We fought, and he beat the shit outta me again. I had a shot to end it that day."

"And you didn't take it."

"Jesus, can I tell you something?" Clary asked. "And don't tell anyone."

"No one else is here, poppet."

"I've always told the others walkers got in the way, and that's why I didn't take the shot. But that's not why. I _chose_ not to take it. I wanted to kill him, but somethin' in me told me not to. I should've taken it, 'cause then we wouldn't have lost a lot of other people."

"Maybe you have done some bad things, Clary," Jesus said, looking down before back up at her. "But you've done enough good to make up for it."

"What, like takin' out the Saviors?" Clary asked, laughing without humor. She suddenly quieted, eyes widening as she scrambled for her walkie. "Shit, shit, shit, _shit!"_

"Clary?" Jesus questioned.

"I ain't gettin' back today. They're gonna think there's more Saviors. And Daryl's gonna go batshit, thinkin' they took me." She raised the walkie, asking, "Daryl, you there? Daryl!" She shook her head at it when she got no response, only static. "I should still be in range. Why isn't it working? Rick? Rick! Daryl!"

She still got no answer.

" _Can anyone hear me?"_ Clary whispered.

"Clary, hey," Jesus said, putting a hand over the walkie. "Maybe you _are_ out of range. That's probably all that it is. But it's okay, alright? We'll get back tomorrow. It'll be alright."

Clary let out a shaky breath, putting her walkie down. "Yeah, maybe I'm just outta range. Maybe that's all that it is."

Jesus grabbed a nearby trashcan, taking the bag out and dropping paper into it. He kept a sheet out, looking to Clary. She handed over her lighter, and he lit the paper on fire. Jesus dropped it back in the trash can, and the other pages ignited. Clary drew her hunting knife, driving it into the edge of the desk. She grunted as she twisted it around, tilting it to break apart a piece of the wood. She got a long piece, which she broke over her knee. Jesus laughed softly as Clary put a scrap of wood into the fire, and she looked up at him. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he replied, shaking his head. "I just never would've thought of using the desk for firewood. You're good at this. You're fast on your feet."

"When I'm under pressure, I think best," she told him, putting the other scrap into the fire. "When you're in a corner, you've gotta act quick. Can't think about consequences. I don't think about the future, about tomorrow. I think about the present. 'How can I fight my way out?' I was hardwired for this. I said to Glenn just this morning, I was made for this world. It's where I belong. So hells yeah, I'm fast on my feet."

Jesus and Clary sat across from each other, the fire between them, the light barely illuminating their faces. They fell into a silence, waiting for the sunrise. Jesus noticed she was still wearing his bandana, and asked, "How's the neck?"

"Carl literally dragged me to Denise last night," Clary answered. "I didn't want to go, but he didn't let go until we were on Denise's doorstep. I just got away with not needing stitches."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah," Clary agreed. "It was stupid, letting my guard down like that."

They fell back into a silence, Clary staring into the fire while Jesus studied her."You don't look like you're new to it."

Clary looked up at Jesus's sudden words. "What?"

"Killing. Those Saviors weren't your first."

"No," she said bluntly. "They weren't."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it. I just spoke. I didn't think."

"It's okay. And it's thirty-six, by the way."

It was Jesus's turn to be confused. "What?"

"The people I've killed. _Thirty-six_. I've had blood on my hand since the early days. She was bit. I knew what was going to happen. I had already seen it. I don't even know her name. She's always been the girl in room nine." Clary sighed, wiping her eyes as she remembered her trip into Savannah. "God, Lee. I hope Clem's okay, wherever she is."

"You said 'Carol's girl' earlier. I know it's not my place to ask you, but I can't help but wonder. Did she have a daughter?"

"Sophia, her name was," Clary answered. "My fault. Same with my best friend 'fore all this, Sam. Jesse'd still be alive if I hadn't dragged him to Woodbury. I might as well have killed them myself."

Jesus didn't say anything after that, causing Clary to fear that she'd said too much. That she'd told him too much about her, made him think that she was a monster. She muttered, "I'm gonna try to get some sleep. You should do the same."

Jesus nodded, acknowledging her. Clary turned on her side, her back to Jesus, and he laid on his back, head by the door. He was silent, staring up at the ceiling. Jesus was so quiet that Clary thought that he had already fallen asleep. She sighed softly, thinking of everyone her group has lost. She thought of everyone she's had to kill, how many people had died because of or instead of her. Clary closed her eyes, choking back a sob. Jesus lifted his head as he heard quiet whimpers coming from Clary. He considered getting up to comfort her, but he wasn't sure if it was his place to, so he didn't. He remained silent, listening with an aching heart as his friend cried. It wasn't long before he couldn't stand it anymore and got up. Without a word, Jesus laid down beside her, wrapping an arm around her. "Paul?" Clary questioned.

"Shh," he murmured into her hair. "It's alright. Don't cry. Just go to sleep, alright? Don't cry, poppet." He pressed a kiss to the back of her head. "It'll all be better in the morning. Sleep now, poppet."

Clary took his hand, threading her fingers through his. "You got any other advice from your mom?"

Jesus thought for a moment. "Know what you're fighting for. If you don't know why you're fighting, it's pointless."

"I think I would've liked your mom," Clary whispered.

"I think she would've liked you, too," Jesus said. "She died when I was eight." He sighed softly, then kissed her shoulder. "Sleep, poppet. I'll be right here."

Jesus waited until he knew Clary was asleep to get up, looking around the office for anything that would help them. He sighed softly as the sun began to rise. The two were trapped. The door was still barricaded by walkers, and there weren't any windows large enough for them to climb out of. Jesus sat on the ground, then laid on his back. Then, he saw it. Over the desk, there was a vent that looked large enough to crawl through.

Jesus quickly got to his feet, grabbing a chair out of the corner. He put it on the desk, crawling up with it. Jesus pulled the vent off, allowing access to the air ducts. He climbed on the chair, then pulled himself into the air duct to see if he could fit. "If I can fit, then so can she," Jesus said to himself, his voice echoing through the ducts.

Jesus crawled back out of the air ducts, climbing off of the desk. He took a seat, deciding to let Clary sleep a little while longer before he woke her. Jesus woke Clary, pointing up to the vent. "I found us a way out," he told her.

"Air ducts?" Clary questioned. "Little cliché, but okay."

"C'mon," Jesus said, climbing into the vents first, as he wasn't quite sure where they led to. He heard Clary behind him as they crawled, looking for the roof.

"You know, Jesus, I take back what I said before," Clary said.

"What?" Jesus asked, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"You _do_ have a nice ass. Not ugly at all."

"Goddammit, Clary. I did not come here to be objectified."

Clary chuckled as Jesus came to an opening, light shining through. He pushed the vent open, climbing out onto the roof. Clary was right behind him, shading her eyes from the sun. They stepped to the edge, looking down. "I'll take out the walkers by the ladder," Clary said, aiming her crossbow at the one closest to their exit. "Then we go. We pick up my bolts as we run. You got my bike keys?"

"Got 'em," Jesus said, holding them up.

"Alright. Let's kick it in the ass."

Clary fired down on the five walkers by the ladder, Jesus climbing down first. He quickly gathered her crossbow bolts as she climbed down, tossing them to her. Clary quickly reloaded, but drew her knife, knowing that she wouldn't have time to reload when the fight started.

Clary and Jesus worked in tandem to take out walkers that came near them. Clary shot a few and threw her knife, while Jesus stabbed and retrieved her weapons. Clary covered him while he grabbed her bike, pushing it away from the walkers. He climbed on, starting it up. Clary climbed on behind Jesus without retrieving her arrows, losing two; but she knew there were more in Alexandria. "Go!" Clary barked as soon as she was on.

Jesus immediately took off, speeding away from the store. He didn't stop until they were a few miles away. Both sides were nothing but fields, aside from a house just off the road. Jesus pulled into the house's driveway, the two climbing off. "Cover me," Clary ordered.

"Wait, what?" Jesus asked, chasing after her as she started up to the house. She opened the door, gun raised, and Jesus quickly did the same. He climbed the stairs, taking the upper floor, while Clary did a sweep of the bottom floor. Neither found any walkers, so they turned their attention to food and water. They raided the house, finding a few cans of food and flat soda. Clary smirked when she found a package of six Orange Crush sodas, grabbing them for Tara. Jesus and Clary sat at the dining room table, their supplies laid out before them. Clary threw her crossbow on the table as she took a seat, and Jesus looked up at the noise. "Hey. No weapons on the table."

"But, Paul, it's just my bow," Clary whined, getting a laugh out of Jesus. "Alright, fine."

Clary hung her bow on the coat rack, taking a seat across from Jesus. He slid an opened can of pears across the table to her, along with a fork, while he dug into a can of peaches. Jesus caught Clary looking at him multiple times as they ate, looking away each time their eyes met. "What?" Jesus asked after a while. "You keep looking at me."

Clary swallowed a bite of her pear, gesturing at Jesus with her fork. "It's because of the hair, right?"

"What?"

"Jesus. The hair and the beard. That's how you got the nickname, right?"

Jesus chuckled. "Yeah. Name stuck, and so did the hair."

"I like it. But I'm curious about what's under there."

"Oh, you're not gonna find out," Jesus said, touching his beard. "Like I highly doubt I'll ever find out if you have ears, since you're hair's down every time I see you."

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Clary joked, pulling her hair back. She turned her head to both sides, showing Jesus that she had ears.

"Ooh, I'm liking the tat," Jesus commented. "That's from the Metallica album, right?" Clary instantly had a grin on her face at the mention of her favorite band, nodding. "I'm still not shaving, poppet."

"Oh, you son of a bitch."

"Don't talk about the Virgin Mary that way." Clary nearly choked on her food from laughing, and Jesus reached across the table to put a hand on her arm. "You okay?"

Clary nodded, coughing one last time before giving him a thumbs up. "There's things that I'd expect to come out of your mouth, and _then_ there's _that_."

Jesus chuckled as they finished off their breakfast, then sighed. "We should probably get going. I need to get back to the Hilltop."

"Let me drive you," Clary offered. "It's a hell of a long walk."

"Only if I can drive," Jesus said. "I love your bike."

"You ain't keepin' her, Suburbia," Clary told him, tossing the keys to him across the table. "So don't go gettin' attached."


	23. Ten Thoughts, One Shot

**Season 6:**

 **Ten Thoughts, One Shot**

 _ **~Dwight~**_

"Dwight!" Clary Dixon calls from across the clearing. "I have a proposal!"

"We don't make deals," I reply. "You know that!"

"You're gonna make this one." She turns to her Asian companion. "Glenn, you're the closest friend I've got. Give the signal." Dixon turns back to me. "Ten paces each. One shot. If I win, you let us, Daryl, and Rosita go. You win, we go with you. All of us. A gun in the air's a sign of surrender."

"Clary, I said negotiate, not challenge!" Glenn cries.

"I accept your challenge," I call. "In this clearing?"

"It's a good a place as any," Dixon answers. "We start in the middle, back to back."

As we walk to the center of the clearing, I realize there are ten things you need to know, and they follow:

Number one: We march to the middle of the forest at dusk. Owen, my friend and lieutenant, follows me, as he's my—

Number two: Dixon arrives with her crew, the Asian guy and the samurai she knew.

Number three: I watch Dixon examine the terrain. I wish I could tell you what was happening in her brain. Her brother should've just taken a different route. Let the dispute die so I don't have to shoot!

Number four: Dixon draws first position, looking, to the world, like a merc on a mission. This is a soldier, through and through. It's her brother that I owe my life to.

Five: Now, I don't think about it at the time, but I was the killer of her friend. _I can't bring about her end._

Six: She examines me with such rigor. I watch as she methodically fiddled with her trigger.

Seven: Confession time? Here's what I got: my fellow Saviors'll tell you I'm not a great shot.

Number eight: Our last chance to negotiate. We send in our seconds, hers tries to set the record straight. Dixon shares a look with Glenn, and I realize her back's covered by her men. If I shoot and she's killed, it's my blood that will be spilled. I have only one thought of the afterlife; this girl will not make a widow of my wife!

Number nine: I look in her eyes and I know that neither would be here if it weren't for her brother. I aim for her shoulder, no higher. I summon all the courage I require, and count:

 _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…_

"Ten paces, fire!"

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

 _Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two—_

One last thought before the duel. Well, it's really more than one. It's more like ten.

Number one: Before we left to deal with the herd, I stopped to write a note. Actually, I wrote—

Two: You know, just in case I didn't make it through. I wanted my people to know what I intended to do.

Number three: If I refuse to shoot, and aim at the sky, he'll either yield or I'll be the only one to die. I know this puts me in a difficult spot, but I've got to throw away my shot.

Number four: I get lucky, I draw first position. I stand, facing west, as I load my ammunition. In the distance, the Alexandria Safe Zone. I watch as the sun begins to set over my beloved home.

Five: I start to shake when I realize that this is the killer of Denise. Will he be mine?

Six: I examine the killer that we shared. I don't want to die yet. _I'm so scared!_

Seven: Carl turned out to be right. Oh, I wish we never had that fight. Is this another thing that'll ruin me? Ruin my reputation, my relationships with my family? My scars will always be my scarlet letter. I never had a chance to make things better.

Number eight: Our last chance to negotiate. We send in our seconds, Glenn tries to set the record straight. I look to Glenn to see if he's found another way out. He shakes his head at me. He's always hated killing, hated confrontation. I never had his instinct for self-preservation. I look to Dwight in the fading light. My brother didn't take his life. Can I finally end this strife?

Nine: My last thought is of my best friend. Maybe I can get back home and make amends. They put us through our paces, we count to ten. _God, I can't wait to see Carl again._

 _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine..._

"Ten paces, fire!"

Dwight and I turn at the same time, and as I spin, time seems to stop. Not stop, like it's the end, but it pauses. Everything freezes, the people around me, the sounds of the apocalypse. I'm given time, possibly my last few seconds, to think. To imagine the outcome of this.

 _I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory._

As my finger closes around the trigger, I hesitate. I'm ready and willing to fire, but I don't. I'm outgunned here. Even if I shoot Dwight, we're not getting out of this. These aren't men that keep their word. No matter what happens, they're still gonna open fire on us. We're here in the open, surrounded, with their eyes on me. If I kill Dwight, who may be the last face I ever see, then I'm pulling the trigger on the bullet that kills Glenn and Michonne. Firing the shot that kills Rosita. That kills Daryl. _Oh, Daryl, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

I've always run from my past. I always tried to fight against the things that happened, never accepted them for what they truly were. Since the moment I was born, I've been running. Trying to find my place. And I finally found it, here in this world, the way it is now.

In what may be my final moments, I catch a glimpse of the other side. Merle leads a soldiers' chorus on the other side. My Sam is on the other side, he's with Sebastian on the other side. Shane Walsh is watching from the other side. _Teach me how to stay alive._ I've spent my entire life running from it all, from the other side. And now I'm running out of time. I'm running and my time's up. Wise up, Dixon. Keep your eyes up. We're dead if I fire, and I'm dead if I don't!

 _Make your decision, Dixon, because your time's up!_

I aim my pistol at the sky—

 _"Wait!"_

* * *

 _ **~Glenn~**_

She aims her pistol at the sky—

" _Wait!"_

My cry comes too late. A gun fires, the shot echoes, and Clary drops to the ground. I rush to her side, begging, "Please, still be alive."


	24. Leaving: Part 2

**Season 7:**

 **Leaving: Part 2**

I drive as Clary sits in silence, staring out the window. We're over halfway home when she says, "Stop the car."

"What?" I ask, looking over at her.

"Aaron, stop the car," she repeats.

I pull to a stop, confused. Clary's out before I even have the car in park, taking a few steps in front of the car. I recognize where we are immediately. The place where the Saviors stopped us the first time, spray painting the man who wouldn't listen. I climb out, standing between the car and the open door. Clary asks, "What the hell are we doing?"

"We're going home," I say. "To Alexandria."

"That's not what I meant," Clary says, turning to face me. "Why are we still here? Why are we still alive?"

"Because Negan's erratic and wants someone to bully."

Clary's quiet for a long time, then says, "They don't have to know."

"What?"

She looks up at me. "The others, they don't have to know I made it. They don't have to know we're alive. They can think that I died at the Hilltop."

"Clary, what the hell are you talking about? What about the others?"

"Fuck 'em. We don't need 'em. Let's run away. You and me."

I ask, "What about Eric?"

"We get him tonight. Sneak over the wall after dark, get him to come with us."

"You're leaving Carl behind?"

"Yeah," Clary answers. "He's better off. They all are."

"You _really_ want to leave?"

"We can make it. You, me, and Eric. The three of us, we can survive together. Let's just go!"

I sigh. "What about your brother?"

"He's dead. I ain't never gonna see him again."

"You'd really be willing to leave? You're okay with leaving your family behind, under _Negan?"_

"Everyone that I've ever cared about has either turned on me, left me, or is dead. I've got no one left! Don't you get that?"

"Jesus. What about him?" I question.

"I don't even know him," Clary tells me.

"Michonne."

"She's got Rick, Carl, Judith. She's got her family."

"Rosita? I know what you did for her when Abraham left her."

"I was just righting a wrong. Nothing more."

"Okay, well, what about me?!" I cry.

Clary looks taken aback by the sudden emotion shown. Slowly, she asks, "What about you?"

"I care about you! And I promised Daryl that if anything ever happened to him, I'd take care of you! It's up to me now! I can't let you do this!"

"You can. You can let me leave."

"You're gonna die out here if I let you go." My voice breaks as I whisper, "I don't want to lose you."

Clary drops to her knees, crying. I make my way over, kneeling in front of her like I did yesterday. "Clary?" I ask. "Clary, what's wrong?"

"You really mean that?" she whispers, looking up at me. "You really care?"

"Of course I do," I say. This time, she lets me take her hands in mine. "I wouldn't say something like that if I didn't mean it. Now, c'mon. Let's go home."

I help Clary to her feet, wrapping my arm around her as I lead her to the car. I open the door for her, closing it once she's in, and I climb in the driver's seat. Clary reaches over, taking my hand as I drive. I rub my thumb over her knuckles, bruised from the punches she threw. "Aaron?" Clary questions.

"Yeah?" I ask, glancing at her.

"Thank you. You didn't have to do all this."

"You're right," I say. "I don't have to. I want to." I glance at a road sign as we pass it. "We'll be home soon. Relax, sweetheart."

"Daryl's the only one that calls me sweetheart," Clary mutters.

"Sorry."

"But for you," Clary says, looking up at me, "I think I can make an exception."


	25. Beaten

**Season 7:**

 **Beaten**

"You know," Negan said with a sigh as they passed the Monroe house on their way out of Alexandria, "I was hoping for some freaky-deaky on that camera. Not Rick back there, but someone." Negan looked down at Clary with a grin as they reached the gate. "Now yours, I could get behind that. You're a real pretty girl. Little young, but I think we can make it work. What do you say, pretty thing?" Negan leaned down, getting uncomfortably close to Clary. "Wanna join Negan's harem?"

Clary looked up at him, trying to figure out if he really said what she thought he said. "What?"

"Wanna be a wife?" Negan questioned. "Life of luxury, baby." Negan wrapped an arm around Clary's waist before she could object, taking her with him as he started off for the truck. He slid his hand into her back pocket as they passed Daryl, who lost it when he saw what was happening before him. He knew about Negan and his wives, how he said that if the women didn't want to be there, he wouldn't force them to, but he really did.

Daryl didn't hesitate to pull his little sister away from the man that murdered their friends, barking, "You don't fuckin' touch her, you sick motherfucker!"

Daryl wrapped his arm around Clary, turning as if he could shield her from the leader of the Saviors. "Daryl, stop," Clary said, pushing herself away from her brother. She sighed, ashamed at being reduced to selling herself for her people, as she said, "You don't make them get as much shit, give us back some guns and ammo, and I'll go with you. Just… lemme say goodbye first."

Clary turned away, stepping back towards Rick and some of the others that had gathered. "Clary, what the hell are you doing?" Daryl demanded. "Nothing's worth being with that fucker!"

Dwight had arrived by that point, and he knew he needed to get his prisoner under control. He spun, punching Daryl in the stomach as he barked, "You don't speak!"

The group let out cries for Daryl as he doubled over in pain, not having expected the punch. Still, he stood back up, only to be met with a sucker punch that knocked him to the ground. Clary stepped forward to defend him, but Negan grabbed her arm and pulled her back as Dwight kicked her brother while he was down. "No!" Clary cried as Dwight continued to beat Daryl. "Dwight, stop this!"

Negan's grip tightened on Clary. She pulled her arm free only after throwing a punch, snapping, "Don't fuckin' touch me!"

At that point, she didn't care about the risk of what Negan might've done to her or her friends. All she cared about what making sure Daryl wasn't hurt. Clary ran to his side, putting herself between him and Dwight. She covered his body with hers, just like he did for her the night before Terminus. Dwight glanced back at Negan, knowing that he wanted Clary to join them, but Negan nodded once. Negan had realized that Clary wasn't on their side and would never be, no matter what they did. So Dwight turned back to the Dixons and kept hitting and kicking, because he had to punish somebody and Clary was there, ready to take the blows. He was expressionless and merciless and he beat the youngest Dixon, not stopping for anything. Dwight didn't even stop after Clary passed out from either a kick to the head or from the pain. "Dwight," Negan said. "Time to go."

Negan being ready to leave was the only thing that stopped Dwight, but he kicked Clary one more time, knocking her off of Daryl. The Dixon fought back as Dwight roughly pulled him to his feet, determined to get to his sister; but Dwight put a gun to his head. Dwight lowered it when Daryl stopped fighting, nearing the truck they arrived in. "Aaron!" Daryl suddenly shouted. "Help her!"

Aaron was already on it, running for her as the Saviors left Alexandria. He dropped down at Clary's side, carefully rolling her onto her back. He had seen everything, but he didn't realize how badly Dwight had beaten her. He gently picked her up, careful not to cause her any more pain. Aaron turned to Rick, Clary hanging, bloody and limp, in his arms. He was nearly in tears from worry as he said, "It's bad, Rick. I'm taking her to the Hilltop. She needs a real doctor."

Rick only said one word. "Hurry."

* * *

Jesus stood in silence as Gregory ranted about Maggie and Sasha being in the Hilltop, trying to ignore the incompetent leader. "Gregory," Jesus said, cutting him off as he saw the gates open. The familiar car had barely stopped before the driver was out. "Oh my god, it's Aaron."

"What the hell does he think he's doing here?" Gregory demanded. "We're already going out of our way for these people!"

"Something happened," Jesus said, starting down the stairs. "I'll find out what."

Jesus walked down the path to meet them as Aaron helped someone out of the car, catching her as she collapsed against him. Jesus broke into a sprint when he saw it was Clary. "Aaron!" Jesus called as Aaron picked her up. When Jesus had his attention, he gestured towards the infirmary. "C'mon."

Aaron followed closely behind him, Jesus asking, "What the hell happened?"

"Dwight happened," Aaron answered.

"The same bastard that shot her?" Jesus demanded. Aaron nodded, and Jesus opened the door for the two at the infirmary. "Harlan!"

The doctor emerged, halting when he saw Clary. "Get her in there," Harlan said, nodding towards another room. "I'll be in in a moment."

Aaron gently laid the girl he had taken in on a bed, staying right beside her. Harlan entered with Jesus in tow, who put a hand on Aaron's arm as he tried to get him away from the bedside. "No," Aaron argued, his voice barely above a whisper to conceal its shaking. "I won't leave."

"What happened?" Harlan inquired.

"Saviors," Jesus told him.

"He… he wouldn't stop," Aaron said. "He just kept beating her. And I knew it was bad, and we don't have a doctor at Alexandria anymore, and—"

"Aaron," Jesus said softly. "Clary's in good hands. Doctor Carson knows what he's doing. It's okay. Come with me. You won't be any help in here."

Reluctantly, Aaron allowed Jesus to lead him out of the room, the latter closing the door behind them. Aaron paced the infirmary as Jesus leaned against a wall, arms crossed. "Tell me what happened," Jesus said.

"I already did."

"In detail. Who, what, where, when, why?"

"Dwight beat Clary. In Alexandria. Earlier. She took it for Daryl."

At that, Jesus was alert. "Daryl's alive? He's in Alexandria?"

Aaron shook his head. "Not anymore."

Instantly, Jesus's spirits fell. "He's dead?"

"No," Aaron said, turning to face Jesus. "Um, I don't think so, anyway. The Saviors have him. He's not in Alexandria anymore. They took him with them."

"They could come back," Jesus said. "It probably won't be long. You should get back in case they come. They see you're missing, they'll know about our alliance. That'll only cause more pain for all of us."

"No," Aaron immediately said. "No. I'm not leaving."

"Aaron, go home."

"I'm not leaving until I know my little girl will be okay."

Not much phased Jesus, but he certainly wasn't expecting that. He never really thought of Clary as a kid because even though she was only sixteen, her mind was older. Jesus knew that Aaron cared and was taking care of her because Daryl was gone, but he didn't realize that Aaron cared enough to consider her his daughter. Jesus opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't form any words. Luckily, that was the same time Doctor Carson decided to emerge. "How is she?" Aaron questioned.

"She has some broken ribs, others bruised or fractured," Harlan told them. "Not yet, but she'll have a lot of bruising. What she needs is a lot of rest. _Bed rest_ , that is."

"Well, isn't that just fucking great," Aaron said. "The Saviors just took all of our beds. We barely have anything left."

"Here," Jesus said suddenly. "Clary could stay here, at the Hilltop. I swear to you, Aaron, I'll take care of your daughter."

"This girl's _your_ daughter?" Harlan questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

Instantly, Aaron knew that Harlan had seen Clary's scars and figured it out. "I'm in loco parentis," Aaron said. "Her parents are dead. The Saviors have her brother. It's how it happened. She took the beating for him."

"Aaron, what do you say?" Jesus asked. "About Clary staying?"

"No matter what it takes, I'll make sure she stays," Aaron says. "You people have beds, food, water. A doctor. I don't want to leave her, but it'd be better for her. If I don't stay, there's less of a chance of the Saviors seeing us and hurting her." Aaron turned to Jesus. "I trust you. Take care of my daughter."

"Of course," Jesus promised.

"You know where we are. Come get me if something happens."

"You got it," Jesus said, shaking Aaron's hand. "Want me to walk you out?"

Aaron gestured towards the door with his head, walking with Jesus to his car. "What you're doing for her," Aaron said, "I can't thank you enough."

"Don't worry about it," Jesus told him, leaning against the car as Aaron climbed in the driver's seat. "I care, too, you know."

* * *

Clary winced at the light streaming in the windows as she woke, immediately closing her eyes again. She tried again, opening them slowly as she adjusted to the light. Jesus sat in the chair next to the bed she was in, deep in thought. "Did I die and go to Heaven?" Clary asked, announcing that she as awake. "'Cause I found Jesus." Jesus turned to her at the sound of her voice. "Hey, Paul."

"Hey, poppet," Jesus said softly, getting up and sitting on the bed beside her. "How do you feel?" Clary tried to push herself up, then groans. She flopped back down, whimpering from the impact. "Yeah, I figured. That's why I got you these." Jesus reached over and grabbed a bottle of pills of the bedside table. He held it up, shaking it. "Painkillers." Jesus leaned down, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Now, you're only supposed to get one at each dose, because we have to ration, but I think I can sneak you two. Harlan kinda owes you guys."

"Got any booze?" Clary whispers. "I'll be fine with just that."

Jesus laughs. "Yeah, okay. Open up, poppet."

Much to Jesus's surprise, she didn't put up a fight, gladly accepting the medication. As he settled back on the bed, Clary wrapped her hand around his wrist. She whispered, "Paul, where's Aaron?"

"I sent him home," Jesus told her. "In case the Saviors came back." He leaned forward, kissing her forehead. "Sleep now, poppet. I'll be right here."

Clary closed her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly. Jesus fixed the blankets around her, tucking her in, before taking a seat in the chair. About twenty minutes later, Harlan leaned in the room. "Knock, knock," he whispered.

Jesus got up as he saw Harlan, meeting him in the hallway. He gently closed the door behind him, not wanting to wake Clary. "Any change?" Harlan asked.

"You missed her by twenty minutes," Jesus said. "She was only awake for about five minutes, if that. Gave her painkillers. Clary didn't even put up a fight. She really must be hurting."

"Well, broken, fractured, bruised ribs," Harlan started, crossing his arms. "That's all Aaron knows, and that's all he's going to know."

"In layman's terms, she got messed up pretty bad," Jesus simplified.

"She got messed up," the doctor confirmed. "But she was lucky. It's not as nearly as bad as it could've been."

* * *

"I've gotta get out of here," Clary said, turning her head to look at Jesus.

"You do realize how badly Dwight beat you, right?" Jesus questioned. "And you got lucky."

"I just need a change of scenery. Please." Jesus was hesitant, but Clary knew she could get him to agree. She batted her eyelashes, smiling as she promised, "I'll be good, Paul. Do everythin' you tell me."

Jesus thought for a long minute before saying, "Well, I guess you would be more comfortable in Barrington."

"Hey, I, um, I know it's kinda a lot to ask, but could you stay with me?" Clary asked. "I don't really know or trust anyone else in the Hilltop, except for Maggie and Sasha. Maybe Harlan."

"It's no problem," Jesus told her. "C'mon, let's get you up and out of here." It was obvious Clary was in pain as Jesus put an arm around her waist, helping her out of the infirmary. "Why don't I just carry you?"

"'Cause I can walk," Clary said in between painful gasps.

"I'm calling bullshit on that," Jesus said.

"Paul—"

Clary's objects were cut short as he picked her up, ignoring them. Once she was in his arms, however, Clary was silent, curling into him. Jesus smirked, and Clary closed her eyes, muttering, "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," Jesus replied, as if he was innocent. _For someone named Jesus, this guy's a hell of a good liar,_ Clary thought to herself. Clary resisted the urge to whimper in pain as Jesus shifted her to open the door, not wanting to make him feel bad. Still, he must've sensed it because he said, "Sorry."

Clary said nothing as Jesus climbed the stairs, not wanting to give away that it hurt her. Once they were in a spare room, Clary slid out of his arms as Jesus dug for a blanket in the closet. When he threw it on the floor, Clary immediately objected. "No, Paul, don't. It's already enough, you staying with me. I can't make you sleep on the floor. Sleep in the bed with me."

"Are you sure?" Jesus said as he picked up the blanket. "I mean, if you're okay with it."

"Well, I would hardly kick you out of bed for eating crackers, Paul."

Jesus chuckled softly as Clary messed with her shirt over the bandages wrapped around her. "Alright," Clary said. "This ain't workin'. Shirt's comin' off."

"You sure?" Jesus asked.

"Yeah, I trust you," Clary told him, wincing as she pulled her shirt off. "'Sides, it ain't a big deal. Just keep Gregory away. He creeps me out."

"You and me both," Jesus said. Clary let out a chuckle, then sharply inhaled, placing a hand on the bandages around her torso. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry. Okay, no more jokes." Clary nodded her agreement, keeping a hand on the bed as she made her way to the side to climb in. "Here, let me help."

"I ain't one to accept help," Clary said as Jesus lifted her into the bed. "But thanks."

"No problem," Jesus said as she laid down. "Get some sleep. I'll be nearby. Holler if you need anything."

"Oh, hey, can you bring me a book sometime?" Clary requested.

"You got it, poppet."

* * *

Clary woke to the sound of music and shouts, and by the time she realized she was alone, the music had stopped. Clary got to her feet, one hand on the bed as she made her way over to the window. "Oh my god," Clary said when she saw what was happening. "I gotta help."

Outside, the Hilltop was scattered with corpses, both dead and undead, and fires were burning. Clary turned away from the window, rushing for the door, but she knew she wouldn't be able to do anything, not in her state. She wouldn't be one of the fighters, she'd be one of the people they had to protect. Her mind went to Jesus as she glanced towards the empty chair, immediately scolding herself for thinking of someone that is more than capable of taking care of themselves when Maggie was out there somewhere, pregnant and injured.

Clary let out a whimper as she moved too fast, leaning against the wall as she tried to slow her breathing. The door was thrown open, and Clary reached for a knife on the desk to defend herself before seeing who had entered. "Hi," Jesus said as he caught sight of the knife in her hand.

"Sorry," Clary apologized, putting it down. "You okay?"

Jesus nodded. "What about up here? Are you alright?"

Clary nodded, glancing at the window before back to Jesus. "What the hell did I miss?"

"Uh, nothing major," Jesus said. "We took care of it. No problem. Maggie killed a car."

Clary rubbed her eyes, sitting back on Jesus's bed. "How long was I out?"

Jesus glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "Fourteen hours."

"Fourteen? Holy shit."

"Yeah, that must be a new record, considering you never sleep."

Clary patted the bed beside her as she laid down. "Get up here, Rovia."

"Ooh, that's a new one," Jesus said as he flopped down beside her. He was exhausted after watching over Clary the last two days, running around the Hilltop for Gregory, and fighting the walkers. "You've never called me by my last name."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it, Dearly Beloved."

Jesus lifted his head to look at her. "'Dearly Beloved?'"

"It's from 'Jesus of Suburbia.' Green Day _._ "

"I forgot about that part." Jesus sighed, shaking his head. "'Dearly Beloved.'"


	26. Wait For It

**LISTEN THERE NEEDS TO BE MORE AARIC SCENES SO IN THE MEANTIME I'M WRITING THEM.**

 **It's my pleasure to introduce the Spaghetti Dads and their Smol But Scary Daughter.**

* * *

 **Season 7:**

 **Wait For It**

The first thing that I notice when I wake up was that I'm on the floor, using someone's arm for a pillow.

The second thing I note is that the smell of this person is different. It's not what I'm used to. _Maybe they started using a new kind of detergent without telling me?_

The third thing was that the chest I'm curled up against is larger than what I'm used to. This isn't Carl, and it isn't Daryl. It's someone taller than them both. _Who the hell is this and where the hell am I?_

The fourth thing I notice is that there are two sets of arms around me instead of one.

The last thing is that someone's chest is pressed into my back. I was asleep between two men, and it's not until I open my eyes do I realize and remember where I am. I'm curled up against Aaron, who's still sleeping, so that has to mean that Eric is on my other side. Carefully, so as not to wake either of them, I turn my head to look at Eric. He's already awake, and he murmurs, "Morning."

I say nothing until Eric starts to remove his arm, saying, "Oh, uh, sor—"

"Keep it," I whisper. Eric pushes himself back a bit to give me some wiggle room as I laid on my back, then he put his arm back across my stomach. I gesture towards Aaron with a jerk of my head, asking, "Is he normally this sound of a sleeper?"

"Sometimes," Eric answers. "Recently, no. He's hardly slept the past few days."

"I can't say I blame him," I mutter, resting my head against Eric's shoulder.

"I know," Eric whispers, kissing my temple. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." He pauses for a second, looking down at me. "Is it okay if I call you that? I know you only let Daryl call you 'sweetheart,' and you gave Aaron special permission, but I—"

"Eric," I say, cutting him off. "It's okay. It extends to you, too."

Eric nods. "You want breakfast?"

I hesitate. "I really don't eat that much."

"And I'm determined to change that. So come on."

"I'm fine, Eric, really. I'm not hungry," I say, but my stomach betrays me. At the mention of food, it growls.

Eric snickers in response, saying, "Not hungry, my ass."

"Oh, fuck you," I retort as my stomach growls again. I glance down at it. "Fuck you, too."

Eric gets up, holding down a hand to pull me to my feet. I wiggle myself out from under Aaron's arm, accepting Eric's offer. We walk down the stairs together, and I take a seat at the island in the kitchen. "I'm making oatmeal," Eric decides. "Want anything in yours?" Eric glances over at me as he gets bowls out. "How's the shoulder?"

"Hurts like a bitch," I admit. "And apples."

"Apples," Eric repeats. "Got it." He stands opposite from me as he cuts up an apple, dividing it between three bowls, the third for Aaron when he wakes. "I heard Aaron saying something about how that was your bad shoulder?"

"Well, not really _bad_ , per se. My, uh, my dad, he was a total asshole. Dislocated my shoulder one time." I take a bowl as Eric slides it across the island to me. "Thanks. My shoulder, it wasn't so bad that I have trouble raising my arm above my head. I can do that. Whenever the weather changes, it starts hurting."

"I, um, I remember you talking about your dad before," Eric admits, taking a seat next to me, bowl of oatmeal in hand. "Back on our way here, when we first met. I wasn't actually asleep when you and Aaron were talking."

"Men like Will, I can't stand 'em. When I found out about Pete, I wanted to kill him myself. Looking back on it, whether it was Rick or I, it still would've put Carl in danger. Ron went after something that meant a lot to the person that killed his dad." I sigh. "Still kinda disappointed I didn't get to be the one to do it. To kill Pete."

"You wanted to kill him?"

"I don't know what it was. I never killed in cold blood before. Never wanted to. It was always in defense, in a fight, in mercy." I shake my head, remembering everything that I've done. "No, that's a lie. I shot Ron a couple times, but never anywhere to kill him. I wanted him to still be alive when the walkers tore into him. I wanted him to suffer."

"I think you had a right for that one," Eric justifies.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." I shake my head again. "Tara's sister. Maybe that wasn't mercy."

"What happened?" Eric asks.

"Well, I killed her. It was during a battle, I call it 'The Fall of the Prison.' Her name was Lilly. She had a daughter that died the same way as Sophia. I've always said that Lilly wasn't Carol, that she didn't have what it took to survive, and that's why I killed her. But now, I don't know. I'm good at reading people, and I watched the Governor when he saw Lilly carrying Meghan. He cared about Meghan, about Lilly. I think I killed her to get back at the Governor. To take something that he loved. I think I killed Tara's sister in cold blood."

"No, Clary, look—"

"Eric," I hiss. "Listen to me. There's a difference between killing and straight up murder. What I did? I committed _murder_. And Tara fuckin' _forgave me_ when she probably should've shot me dead. I met her once before, before she met the Governor, before the Fall. She told me that if anyone hurt her sister, she'd kill 'em. I literally got away with murder!" I sigh, putting my spoon down in my bowl. "That night, I begged Negan to kill me and leave the others alone. I thought it would be my penance for all that I had done. Turns out, it wasn't even close. No matter how I try to pay this fuckin' world for what I've done, it just doesn't work. I need to know if there's a reason I'm still alive when everyone who loves me has died. What the hell does this world want from me?"

"Negan," Aaron says from the doorway, and Eric and I turn to him. "This world, it wants you to go after Negan." He makes his way over, leaning against the island on my right. "C'mon, Clary, it's time for you to rise up! You're a damn good leader! I've seen what you can do, what you're capable of! I'd follow you anywhere! _You_ are the person we need to go after Negan. _You_ are the only one that's capable of killing him. _You_ are the one that's supposed to do it. Your reason for still being alive? _Killing Negan._ "

"Aaron, they took all of our stuff," I say. "How am I supposed to kill him? I have no opportunity."

"You will," Aaron assures me. "You just have to wait for it."


	27. Halo On Fire

**AN: This is mostly based off of the music video for "Halo On Fire" by Metallica.**

* * *

 **Season 7:**

 **Halo On Fire**

Clary and Carl watched as Jesus stood at the edge of the food truck, pouring syrup out of the back of it. He turned when he sensed them watching, explaining, "I'm making a trail. I think we're close." He glanced over his shoulder at the two. "We should bail out, follow the rest of the way. See what we can see."

Clary and Carl looked at each other, a silent agreement going between the two that Jesus didn't notice. "I, uh," Carl started. "How?"

"It isn't usually the fall that gets us," Jesus said. "It's trying to fight it. Run with it or roll with it. The truck's going slow enough. We'll be in the blind spot. We can race behind one of the other cars."

"I'm not like you two," Carl rushed. "If I screw up and we get caught—"

"It'll be fine," Clary assured him. "We just gotta go now."

"Okay," Carl agreed. "Show me first."

Jesus nodded, looking back at them, while Clary said, "I'll be right behind you two."

Jesus jumped out, rolling as he hit the ground and quickly getting to his feet. He ducked behind one of the abandoned cars, watching to see which teenager would follow. Instead, he saw Clary and Carl standing side by side, each holding the plastic flaps apart so they could see Jesus. While Carl simply waved, Clary smirked, flipped him off, and blew him a kiss. Jesus shook his head at the two, trying not to grin. "'Show me first.' God, I love them."

Clary and Carl stepped back into the truck, each taking one of the guns the Saviors had. Carl took a large machine gun, while Clary recognized one of the guns as her own by its release on the left side, and picked it up. Carl glanced at her, asking, "You sure you want that one? It doesn't really have that many rounds."

"Babe, this is _my_ gun," Clary said. "I _know_ her. I've got fifteen rounds. I know how to make 'em count."

"You'd better," Carl whispered as the truck halted. From outside, the two could hear Negan's voice as he said, "Okay, boys, let's get this haul unloaded and inside."

Clary and Carl hid behind crates on either side of the truck, waiting for their moment. A Savior pulled aside the plastic, tying it back as he climbed up in. He picked up a box Jesus had cut into earlier, the whiskey inside dropping to the ground and shattering. "Son of a bitch!" the Savior cursed, then turned and saw Carl behind a crate. "What the hell?"

Carl fired on him and a second Savior, the latter diving out of the truck while the other dropped dead. Carl jumped up, rushing to the edge of the truck, gun raised. "Stay back!" he barked as Clary got to her feet.

"Drop your weapons," Clary ordered, aiming a gun as she stepped down from the truck, Carl above her. "We only want Negan."

"No one else needs to die," Carl added.

They turned to their right as Negan let out a whistle. "Damn." He walked behind his men, constantly moving so the two couldn't get a good shot. "You two are adorable." He pulled one of his Saviors in front of him to act as a shield. "Tell me, kid, did you pick that gun 'cause it looks cool? You totally did, didn't you? I ain't gonna lie. You two scare the shit outta me."

Clary reached behind her, taking her knife, and throwing it. Negan flinched, thinking it was meant for him, but it wasn't. It hit its target, the head of the Savior Negan was using for a shield. As soon as he started to fall, Clary shouted, "NOW!"

The two aimed for Negan, but Dwight was already acting. He knocked Carl to the ground with a punch, landing on his knees on top of the Grimes. Clary immediately turned on Dwight, pistol whipping him and knocking him off of Carl. He fell on his back, and Clary aimed her gun down at him. She growled, "I aimed at the sky for you once. I ain't doin' it again."

Negan whistled, getting Clary's attention. She turned to find him pointing down at Carl with Lucille. "Tiger, sweetheart, I thought you knew better," he sighed. "But you know how this part works, don't you?"

Negan raised Lucille, and Clary threw herself to the ground in front of Carl, shrieking, " _WAIT!"_

Negan paused, Lucille still in the air, and Clary was breathless as she pleaded, "Don't hurt him. Please. Take me, kill me, do whatever you want, but don't hurt him."

"Clary," Carl started.

"Stop," Clary said, glancing back at him. "I can take it." She closed her eyes, whispering, "I'm coming, Glenn." Clary rose on her knees, just like Abraham. She opened her eyes as she lifted her head to stare down Negan. Showing no fear, she said, "For the revolution!"

"Oh, tiger," Negan said, lowering Lucille. "There is no revolution. I'm not gonna kill you."

Carl reached for Clary's hand, relieved that her life was being spared for the moment. Dwight appeared, shoving Clary to the ground and taking her weapons. Then, he took Carl's, still straddling Clary so she didn't fight back. She still tried, though, and Dwight pressed the barrel of her own gun to her forehead. "I missed for you once," Dwight growled.

"Dwight!" Negan barked. "Back the fuck off!"

Dwight got to his feet, taking Clary's gun with him. Negan stood over Carl, extending his hand. "That's no way to treat our new guests. C'mon, kid, I'll show you around." Carl glared up at him. "You know, you do the same damn stink eye as your dad, except it's only half as good 'cause… well, you know, you're missing an eye." Carl's eye darted to Clary, ignoring Negan. "Really? You're really not gonna take my hand? 'Cause you're lucky you even still have a hand. Same as your boy, Daryl. I shoulda just made your girl cut it off. Maybe I will." He turned to Daryl. "How's the job goin', Daryl? Hot enough for ya? Yeah, it'd be tough with one arm."

"You don't fuckin' touch him," Clary growled.

"Whoa now!" Negan exclaimed, glancing down at her. "I don't remember saying you could speak, little missy!"

"Don't fuckin' call me that!" Clary barked, remembering how Abraham used to call her the same thing. "And I ain't your fuckin' sweetheart neither!"

"Clary," Carl whispered. "Cool it."

He reached up, taking Negan's hand. Negan chuckled. "Ah, smart kid! You get your loud mouth girlfriend up and come with me. Dwighty-boy, why don't you grab Daryl, take him to the kitchen, do a little grub prep. New plan, boys. Let's burn the dead, unload the truck later."

Negan sighed to himself, saying something about screwing a wife as Carl reached down. Clary took his hand, and he pulled her up. Clary put his hat back on his head, as Carl wrapped his arm around her waist. Even though they fought a few times recently, he was _not_ going to let her out of his sight while they were in the Sanctuary, terrified of anything happening to her. Negan started off, expecting the two to follow, and said, "Come on."

The hand resting on Clary's hip squeezed her side, and Clary hand at his side tightened. It was a silent communication between the two, showing they were equally scared of anything happening to the other. Carl asked, "What're you going to do to us?"

Negan turned, telling them, "Number one, don't shatter my image of you two. You're the badass lovers. You're not scared of shit. Don't be scared of me. It's a disappointment. Two… you really want me to ruin the surprise?"

* * *

Clary's hand tightened around the beer bottle in her hand, given to her by Negan, as she watched him kneel in front of a young blonde woman. Her nerves were just about shot, and Clary lifted the bottle to her lips. She drank what was left as Negan spoke to the girl, which was most of it as Negan had only taken one sip. Negan walked over to a brunette woman as Clary swallowed the last bit, hoping the alcohol would steady her nerves. She watched as the brunette said, "You're an asshole."

"I know," Negan said with a grin. "But the messed up thing is, you like me anyway. You know the truth, just like me."

Negan leaned forward, kissing the brunette as Dwight arrived. Clary turned, reading all of Dwight's facial expressions and movements. She immediately knew this girl, the brunette, meant a lot to him. _She's his wife,_ Clary realized. _Or she was, anyway._

Then, Clary saw Daryl standing next to Dwight, carrying a tray of food. The bottle slipped out of her hand, shattering on the ground. The noise jarred her back, and she jumped back, exclaiming, "Shit!"

Negan glanced down at the broken glass as he made his way over. "Carl, grab this tray for me," he ordered, and Clary took the tray from Daryl, passing it to her boyfriend. "Daryl, clean this shit up. Wait, tiger, did you drink my beer?"

"I wasn't supposed to?" Clary asked. "Look, you can't put booze in front of me and _not_ expect me to drink it."

Negan chuckled, glancing at Daryl. "I'm liking baby sis more and more, Daryl! You might not be the only Dixon here soon."

Clary backed up at Negan's statement, hiding behind Carl's arm, as Daryl's gaze darted to her. He glared back up at Negan, growling, "You don't touch her."

Carl turns his head to look at Clary, whispering, "I won't let him. You're not becoming one of these women. Not over my dead body."

Clary replied, "That's what I'm scared of."

* * *

"Ah, I can't do it," Negan said, looking at the two as they sat in his room. "It's like talking to a birthday present." Negan sat on a couch across from Carl, Clary perched on the arm of Carl's chair. "You gotta take that crap off your face. I wanna see what Grandma got me."

Carl simply glared at him. "No."

"Two men!" Negan barked, then exhaled slowly. "Two… men. Punishment. Do you really want to piss me off?" Slowly, Carl took his hat off, placing it on the coffee table in front of him. Clary got to her feet, standing behind Carl's chair and unwrapping the bandage. "Almost there." Negan chuckled as Carl took the bandage, dropping it to the ground. Clary sat back on the arm of the chair, as Negan said, "Get that hair out of your face. Let me see."

Carl's lip quivered as he brushed his bangs back, tucking them behind his ear, to reveal the scar left behind by Ron's bullet. If the bullet had been an inch farther to the left, it would've missed Carl completely. But it didn't, instead taking out his eye and part of his socket. "Christ!" Negan exclaimed. "That is disgusting! No wonder you cover that up. Have you seen it?" Carl hung his head, while Clary's hand tightened around his, trying to to punch Negan as he continued. "I mean, have you looked in the mirror? That is gross as hell! I can see your socket! I want to touch it. Oh, come on. Can I touch it?"

Carl sniffed, leaning into Clary as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. She glared at Negan, growling, "Say it again, motherfucker."

Negan sat back, sighing. "Damn." He shook his head. "Holy hell, kid. Look, I just… it's easy to forget that you're just a kid." Carl looked up from Clary's shoulder. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything." He sighed again. "I was just screwing around."

"Just forget it," Carl whispered. He leaned back into Clary as there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Negan called after a moment.

The door opened, a heavy man stepping through with Lucille in his hands. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but, uh, you left Lucille out by the truck."

"Seriously?" Negan asked. "I _never_ do that. I guess two kids firing guns and throwing knives are a little bit of a distraction." Negan looked back to Carl. "All jokes aside, you look rad as fuck. I wouldn't cover that shit up." Negan glanced over to Clary. "What do you think of it, tiger?"

"It's badass," she said. "Beats any and all of my scars."

"I swear to you," Negan promised, "no one is gonna screw with you looking like that. You wanna keep your girl safe? Keep the bandage off. No one will even _think_ of coming near you. No, sir." Negan turned to the other Savior. "Fat Joseph, did you carry her all the way up here for me?"

Fat Joseph smiled and nodded. "Yes, sir."

Negan gestured to him to hand over Lucille, and he took the bat in his hands before looking up at Fat Joseph again. "Were you gentle? Were you kind?"

"Uh…"

"Did you treat her like a lady?"

"Mm, yes," he answered. "Yes, sir."

"Did you pat her little pussy like a lady?" Negan inquired, and Fat Joseph was at a loss for words. Negan chuckled. "I'm just screwing around, man. A baseball bat doesn't have a pussy!" Fat Joseph chuckled. "Get the hell out. And spread the word—it's Fight Night."

Fat Joseph left without another word, closing the door behind him. "What's Fight Night?" Clary inquired.

"You'll see," Negan promised. "You'll see." He paused, looking at Carl. "What do you like to do for fun? You like music?" Negan suddenly gasped. "I want you to sing me a sing."

"What?" Carl asked.

"You mowed down two of my men," Negan said. "I want something in return for that. Sing me a song."

"I-I can't think of any," Carl said.

"Bullshit! What'd your mom used to sing to you? What'd your dad play in the car?" Negan got to his feet. "I'd suggest you start singing." He held Lucille under Clary's chin, and she jerked her head up, eyes widening. "Because I'd _really_ hate to bash that pretty little skull in."

Shakily, Carl sang the first two lines of "Hey Jude," as he remembered Clary singing it to Judith. Negan dropped Lucille away from Clary, telling them, "Go on."

" _Remember to let her into your heart  
_ _Then you can start to make it better"_

Negan let out a grunt as he swung Lucille, causing Carl to stop. "Do not let me distract you," Negan told them.

Clary put her hands over Carl's, clasping hers around them to hide the fact that they were shaking. Together, the two sang the next verse.

" _Hey Jude, don't be afraid  
_ _You were made to go out and get her  
_ _The minute you let her under your skin  
_ _Then you begin to make it better"_

Carl didn't know anymore after that, but Clary took over, singing the third verse by herself.

" _And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain  
_ _Don't carry the world upon your shoulders  
_ _For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool  
_ _By making his world a little colder"_

* * *

Clary and Carl could hear shouts as they approached the main part of the warehouse, Negan leading them. They stood on the platform above it, looking down to see Saviors in a ring on the main floor. In the middle, two men were engaged in a fight. "Welcome to Fight Night," Negan told them. "It's kinda like _Fight Club_ , except we actually talk about it."

As they watched the fight, Clary's hands were closing into fists. Negan noticed that she was itching to join, and asked, "You want to give it a go?"

Clary looked up at him as the fight ended. "Can I?"

"Yeah," he said. "Oh, you gotta pick a song first."

"A song?"

"Yeah, it's a tradition of Fight Night. You know how boxers and shit have songs that play when they enter the ring? We do that, too. You see our sound guy, Dean, over there?" Negan pointed to a teenager about a year or two older than Clary. "He's got every song you can think of. If you're gonna fight, you gotta have a song."

Clary thought about it as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Her fingers brushed over her Metallica tattoo, and she suddenly grinned. "I got it." She ran over to Dean, leaning down next to him. "Hey, you got 'Don't Tread on Me' by Metallica?"

"Course I do," Dean said, glancing up at her. He suddenly did a double take. "Holy shit."

"Dude," Clary says, looking down at him.

"Sorry. I meant your tattoo. I wasn't expecting it. It's pretty cool."

"Tiger!" Negan called, gesturing for her.

"Gotta go," Clary said, turning to take off. "Boss man wants me."

"Wait!" Dean called after her, and she paused, looking back at him. "Your name."

"Clary Dixon."

" _You're_ Clary Dixon? Negan talks about you all the time." Clary glanced at Negan, then back to Dean. "You got a nickname, aside from 'tiger?' A codename?" She shook her head. "Alright, I got something. Everyone that fights here has a nickname."

"Tiger!" Negan barked, starting to lose his patience.

"I'm comin'!" Clary called, running back over to Negan and Carl. She took off her flannel shirt, leaving her in a tank top. She tossed it to Negan, who caught it with a grin. He was liking this girl more and more. She jumped back and forth, warming up a bit as she looked down at her opponent. He was a huge dude, probably about Negan's height, and most of his body looked to be muscle. Still, she wasn't nervous.

"I take it Dean told you about the names?" Negan guessed, and she nodded. "Your opponent, he's the Golem."

"What, like the Pokémon?" Clary asked. "Someone get me a spray bottle of water."

Negan chuckled, while Carl cracked a bit of a grin. "No, like the thing in folklore. Or that _Sherlock_ show."

Clary's reply was cut off by Dean, who had a sound system and microphone set up. He leaned into his microphone, calling, "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a very special guest! All the way from Alexandria, it's the Executioner!"

As soon as he finished speaking, "Don't Tread on Me" started playing. Clary ran down the steps, jumping over the railing halfway down. The crowd parted for her, but booed her as she was a newcomer and was going up against the fan favorite. However, Negan was grinning and Carl was cheering her on.

Clary threw the first punch, knocking the Golem back. He stepped forward, but he was slow. The Golem was nothing but muscle, slow and a bit dumb. Clary used it to her advantage, easily kicking his ass and winning the fight, just like Negan and Carl knew she would. The crowd changed direction, cheering for her as the Golem was dragged out of the ring. She looked up to where Negan and Carl stood, momentarily ignoring the cheering crowd. Negan nodded once, pleased. Carl blew her a kiss. Clary grinned, having a good time as she ran around the circle, high-fiving random Saviors. A few other people stepped into the ring, and she easily kicked their asses. After each fight, she ran a lap around the ring, high-fiving Saviors.

She stopped short when she came face to face with Dwight, who stood with a grin on his face as she became aware of the music in the background. She only faltered for a millisecond before grinning. "How's it hangin', dickless?" she questioned.

"It's Scarface," Dwight corrected.

"Which one? Pachino or Capone?"

"Fuck you," Dwight snapped as he pulled his shirt off. "You here to fight?'

"Well, I ain't here to show you my dick. C'mon, dickless. Let's see if you've got the balls to take on me." Dwight threw a punch, which Clary dodged. She landed a punch, and he fell, but got back up. They faced each other, neither throwing a punch. "C'mon, Dwight boy, hit me."

She leaned back as he threw another punch, and she landed a blow to his chin. She landed two more before Dwight finally hit her, and she fell back. The crowd was there, catching her and pushing her back out onto the floor. Dwight guarded his face, so Clary targeted his stomach and ribs. Clary backed him into a corner, or rather, a wall of Saviors. She kept hitting, until she took a moment too long to hit him again and Dwight punched her in the stomach. She stumbled back but didn't fall, and Dwight stepped forward to meet her. They both threw a punch at the same time, hitting their target, but Clary had more force behind hers. She was starting to get pissed that Dwight kept coming, but at the same time, she was glad. _Finally, a decent fight._

Clary couldn't help but grin as Dwight approached, then threw a punch that knocked him down. When he tried to get up, Clary was already there, wrapping her arm around his neck. She got him a chokehold, staying out of reach of his swinging fists. The crowd around them counted to ten, and when they reached ten, Dwight stopped fighting. "You won," he choked out.

Clary only released him then, and Dwight got to his feet, picking up his shirt before walking out of the circle. Clary took a moment to catch her breath as Dean announced, "We've got another newcomer tonight, ladies and gents! It's my pleasure to introduce the Cowboy!"

The chorus of "Wanted Dead or Alive" started playing as the crowd parted, intimidated by the boy with the missing eye. Clary turned to look at Carl, sighing softly. She asked, "Is he making you do this?"

"Threatened your brother," Carl answered. "Either I fight, or he hurts Daryl."

Clary wiped blood from her lip, raising her fists as she shifted on her feet. "Alright, don't hold back, Cowboy."

Clary swung a punch that she knew Carl would block, and he caught her arm, pulling her against him. He put his arm around her neck so it looked like he was holding her in chokehold, but he didn't hold her tightly so she could still breath. "Same to you," he whispered in her ear. "Knock me on my ass a few times. Negan'll be satisfied."

Clary made it look like she elbowed him in the stomach to free herself, and Carl dropped her. She turned on her knee, swiping Carl's legs out from under him. They both got to their feet, throwing punches that missed or were dodged. It was almost like a dance, how the two fought without injuring the other. They blocked all of the other's advances, until Carl gave a slight nod. No one noticed it but Clary, who knew exactly what it meant.

Clary targeted his right sight, throwing a punch that knocked him to the ground. Immediately, she pinned him. Carl was dazed for a moment, not knowing how hard his girlfriend could actually punch. When he came to his senses, the crowd was counting to ten, already on six. He tried to push Clary off, but she wasn't budging. The crowd reached ten, signalling that she won, and erupted into cheers. Dean called, "It look slike tonight's Fight Night champion is the Executioner!"

Clary climbed off of Carl, pulling him to his feet. "You okay?" Clary asked, and he nodded. "Good. You're not a bad fighter."

"You think Negan's satisfied?" Carl questioned, glancing past her up at Negan.

"Let's hope it's enough for now," Clary said, tightening her hold on his hand. Carl pulled her against him, wrapping an arm around her waist, foolishly kissing her in front of the Saviors. Clary pulled back, hissing, "You dumbass! Now they know we're together! They've got somethin' more they can use against us!"

"Clary, they already knew," Carl said. "And if they didn't, they were going to find out sooner or later." He wrapped an arm around Clary's shoulders. "C'mon, let's go home. I think Fight Night's over."

* * *

Eric paced on the porch, worried about his adopted daughter. He hadn't seen her since dinner the night before, where she barely touched the food on her plate. She seemed a little off the night before, and it didn't help that Clary's weapons were missing from her room. Eric hadn't been this worried since he and Aaron were separated when the wall came down and walkers invaded. "God, Aaron's gonna flip when he gets back!" he hissed to no one in particular. "I'm a horrible father!"

"Eric!"

Eric turned at the sound of Clary's voice, sighing, "Oh, _now_ you're here."

He took off down the stairs, nearly tripping in his haste, as he ran for Clary. She stepped forward, meeting him and wrapping her arms around him. "Oh, my god," he whispered in relief. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Well, um, sorry?" Clary tried.

"'Sorry!'" Eric cried, pulling back. Whatever parental rant he was about to start, he immediately cut himself off when he saw her face. He took her bloodied and bruised face in his hands, demanding, "What the hell happened to you? Are you okay? Who did this?"

"Eric, it's okay," Clary told him. "We're okay. I just, uh, I just got in a fight. Multiple fights…"

" _Multiple!_ Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon!"

" _Easy_ , Eric. I'm not hurt."

"Your lip's busted and you've got a black eye."

"I've had worse, Eric."

"I don't give a shit. What the hell were you thinking, Clary?"

"It was Fight Night," Clary answered. "It's what they do. It was… it was actually kinda fun."


	28. Negan's Punishment

**AN: This is basically an AU I had in mind for a while. It was mostly inspired by a post about Dean Winchester digging himself out of a grave.**

* * *

 **Season 7:**

 **Negan's Punishment**

 _Olivia and Spencer are dead. It's my fault. I wasn't here to stop him. They're dead and it's my fault._

Clary repeated those thoughts to herself like a mantra as she climbed the stairs to her room in Aaron and Eric's house. She was shaken from the deaths, and Spencer's blood was splattered on her face, along with her own. She entered the bathroom closest to her room, placing a clean shirt by the sink. Clary paused when she saw herself in the mirror, truly realizing how much she's changed in the two years since the start of the apocalypse. Through the blood, she could see the scar on her cheek from the sniper at the prison. The graze from Arat was less than an inch below the scar on her temple from falling in the ravine back on the farm. "Well, you know what they say," Clary muttered to herself. "All warriors have scars."

Clary closed the door with her foot, pulling off her shirt and turning on the water to heat up. She looked over her shoulder at her back in the mirror, smiling softly as she saw that one of her earliest scars was finally beginning to fade. _Finally, some good news._ She turned around, running her fingers over the tattoo over her heart that she had Daryl help her with a little over a month back. The two had found a tattoo kit and taken it back to Alexandria, giving each other a tattoo. Daryl had finally fulfilled his promise of getting a _veritas_ tattoo to match Clary's _aequitas_ , plus a tattoo of angel and devil wings, a halo above with a tail underneath. Clary gently touched her left shoulder, the place where she had tattooed the angel and devil on Daryl. She shook her head, trying not to think about her brother as she took a shower.

Clary was climbing out of the shower as she heard footsteps climbing the stairs, figuring it was either Aaron or Eric. She wrapped herself in a towel, her wet hair brushing her shoulders. The door suddenly opened, and she spun, coming face to face with one of the men that had beaten Aaron earlier. She backed up as the Savior stepped in, one hand keeping her towel up while she used the other to search for something to defend herself with. The Savior started forward, and Clary didn't hesitate to scream, " _AARON!"_

The Savior pulled out a knife as Clary's hand closed around the handle of Eric's straight razor, holding it out in front of her as she found herself stuck in a corner. She started to panic then, having no way out. The Savior said something, but Clary didn't hear it. The Savior took another few steps forward, and fearing for herself, she lunged forward, using Eric's razor to slit the Savior's throat. He dropped to the ground as Clary dropped the weapon, hugging her knees to her chest as she heard running footsteps on the stairs.

Eric arrived first, followed by Aaron. The two froze when they saw the scene before them, and Eric was the first to react. He stepped over to Clary, hands raised to show her he meant no harm. Eric knelt next to Clary, wrapping her towel around her again, while Aaron put his knife through the Savior's head so he wouldn't reanimate. "Clary?" Eric asked softly. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Slowly, Clary shook her head. She leaned into Eric as more footsteps climbed the stairs, the owners' having heard the scream. Rick was there first, Negan behind him. The two paused, equally shocked. Negan came around first, barking, "What the fuck! What the fuck did you do?"

Clary was nearly in tears from fear as she stuttered, "He just—he came in. I didn't know what was going to happen, I was just so scared. He pulled a knife, and I―I..." She trailed off, unable to find the right words. She looked up at Negan, her face glistening with blood once again. "Don't hurt them. It was me. I take responsibility. Punish me."

"What the hell happened?"

"It was all a blur," Clary whispered as Eric wrapped an arm around her in an attempt to comfort her. "It happened so fast. All I know is that I killed him. Please, please, Negan, please don't hurt them."

Negan paused for a moment before ordering, "Get dressed and get your ass outside. I want you at your graveyard in ten minutes." Negan turned away, then looked back at Clary. "I like the tat. 'J.S.S.'"

Clary's hand flew to her chest, covering it, as Eric turned his body to block Negan's view of his adopted daughter. Negan chuckled to himself, walking away. Eric kept his arm around her as Rick left behind Negan, helping Clary to her feet. "Do you want us to stay nearby?" Eric asked.

Clary nodded, so Aaron promised, "We'll just be outside the door, okay?"

Clary nodded as the two left, Eric starting to close the door. "Wait!" Clary said, and Eric paused. "Can you just talk? About whatever, I don't care. Just so I know you're there."

"You got it," Aaron promised, and the door closed. As Clary got dressed, Aaron talked about the upcoming winter. "It's beautiful when it snows around here."

"Yeah," Eric agreed. "We usually have a white Christmas."

"I've never had a Christmas," Clary mentioned. "No tree, no presents, none of that shit in the movies."

"Oh, we're changing that," Eric declared. "You're going to have the best Christmas of your entire life this year."

Clary smiled softly, imaging having a Christmas like in the movies with her family. "That… that sounds nice," Clary agreed, sitting on the edge of the bathtub to tie her shoes. "On Christmas morning, it'll be the four of us. You two, Daryl, and I. And then the rest of the family will get together later that day. And Judith will have her first Christmas."

Clary opened the door, her smile fading as she thought of Negan in her home. Eric rested a hand on her shoulder, telling her, "Come on. We'd better get going."

She stayed between the two as they walked towards Alexandria's graveyard, three Saviors entering their home to retrieve their fallen comrade. They arrived as Carl helped Tobin lower Olivia into her grave, Spencer's body still lying beside his. "Negan," Clary said, announcing their arrival.

Negan grinned when he saw her. "Right on time, tiger. Alright, let's get this started."

Clary paled as Negan put Lucille on his shoulder, thinking for a moment that she was going to die the same way Glenn and Abraham did. Then, Negan turned to Aaron. "Hold her, will you?"

It wasn't a request but an order, Aaron taking the baseball bat with a look of horror. Negan clapped his hands, rubbing them together as he stepped back. "Alright," he said as the rest of the group gathered around. "So, you may or may not have heard about what's recently happened." Negan shot a look at Clary. "About how Miss Leader here killed one of my men. Granted, he pulled a knife on her while she was getting out of the shower, but she still killed one of my people nonetheless. This isn't so much a punishment as a learning experience."

The way he said the last sentence, Clary knew it was a lie. This was a punishment for her, a way for Negan to show what he's willing to do to the others. She stepped away from Eric and Aaron, and Negan took her arm, pulling her to the front with him.

"This is a learning experience, for you and your people," Negan said, facing her. "You especially. You gotta learn to save yourself sometime, kiddo. Negan won't always be there to help you out."

Clary tilted her head to the side, looking at Negan with a clear look of confusion as he stepped towards her. She backed up, nearly falling off the edge of the hole in the ground. She looked towards the people watching, her people and Saviors, before back at Negan. "What?" she breathed.

"Cover your face, tiger. And get ready to dig."

With that, he shoved Clary back, prompting cries of concern from the others. She landed on her back at the bottom of the pit, staring up to see Negan standing over her, a shovel in hand. "Negan?" Her eyes widened in fear as she realized what was going on, how she was at the bottom of a six foot grave. "You'll pull me out, right? If I can't get out?"

Negan said nothing, just threw the first shovelful of dirt in on her.

* * *

The rule went unspoken.

The group standing around Alexandria's graveyard didn't move from where they stood, even after Negan had buried Clary alive. They all had goosebumps from the chill of Clary's pleas, praying that she'd be okay. With each minute, their hearts beat faster and faster. In the hand that wasn't holding Lucille, Aaron gripped Eric's hand. Tara and Rosita held hands, Carl on Tara's other side.

Eventually, Negan got tired of waiting for Clary. He knelt, brushing dirt aside with his hands. It didn't take long until they could see the top of Clary's body. Negan took her hands, pulling her out of the grave himself. She was covered in dirt, most of it in her wet hair, not moving as she was dropped on her back below Negan. "Well, huh," Negan said. "I thought she could do it. Little spitfuck wasn't as determined as I thought she was."

"Is she breathing?" Rosita asked, and Negan shook his head. Gasps went through the group, but Rosita stepped forward, ignoring the risk to herself. Negan watched in curiosity as she knelt next to Clary, then understanding as Rosita put her cheek above Clary's mouth. "C'mon, Clary, don't you die on me."

* * *

Clary woke in an unfamiliar place, but with a familiar face above her. She pushed herself up as Shane knelt before her, asking, "What the hell, kid? I thought I taught you better. I thought I taught you to stay alive."

"Yeah, well, I've always had a problem listening to teachers," Clary replied, accepting Shane's hand as he pulled her to her feet. He glanced down, taking note of his necklace around her neck. "Um, I went back and buried you."

"I know," Shane said. "We saw it. We've been watching over you." Shane rested a hand on her back, gesturing along a pathway with his head. "C'mon." She followed him along a path, pausing when she recognized a figure a few feet away. Shane gently tugged on her arm, urging her, "C'mon. Come say hello."

"Lori?" Clary questioned, unable to believe her eyes as the figure stepped forward.

"Oh, Clary, you brave, brave girl," Lori breathed, holding her arms out for a hug. That was certainly new, as the two had never touched aside from the brushing of fingers as food was passed around. That, and the day Sophia died, but Clary pushed that thought out her here mind. Still, she stepped forward, embracing Lori. "You hero, you're far too young for this."

"I've had to grow up fast," Clary replied, pulling back to look up at Lori. "Carl has, too."

"Oh, I know," Lori said. "And I'm so proud of him. Will you tell him that? And that I think Judith is a beautiful name?" Clary nodded. "Oh, and tell Rick that I'm happy for him, being with Michonne."

"And on the topic of Rick," Shane added, "make sure to tell him that I'm sorry. That goes for you, too, kid. I'm sorry I tried to kill you."

"Hey, you had to teach me to stay alive one way or another," Clary noted, causing Shane to chuckle.

"Oh, no. Please, no, no no, no."

Clary turned at the sound of Glenn's voice, having to tighten her grip on Lori's arm to stop herself from falling over. "Oh my god, Glenn."

Glenn was nearly in tears as he pleaded, "Please, don't tell me you're actually here." Clary ran forward, and Glenn met her halfway, both of them wrapping their arms around each other at the same time. They were both crying, Glenn pleading, "Your time can't be up! Go back, Clary!"

"I'm not leaving you again," Clary whispered. "I'm so sorry, Glenn. I should've done more."

"No, no, don't say that. It's not your fault. You gotta go back down there. You promised me that you'd avenge me. You gotta go do that."

"And you'd better not come back here until long after you've killed Negan," Abraham added, placing a hand on Clary's shoulder. "Hey, lil missy."

"Hey, Red," Clary replied, reluctantly releasing Glenn as she and Abraham hugged.

A familiar voice shouted, "Ay, yo, bitch!"

Clary froze from where she had wrapped her arms around Abraham, because there was only one person that could and would greet her that way without the fear of a broken nose.

"Jesse," Clary breathed. The three people whose first initials she had tattooed over her heart arrived together. She tore away from Abraham to run to meet Jesse. She hugged him, then the two brothers right beside him. "Sam, Sebastian!"

The Widmores immediately wrapped her in a group hug, Sam murmuring, "Oh, Clary, it's okay, it's okay."

It took Clary everything not to break down and cry because she knew exactly what he was talking about. The weight that she'd carried since the early days, the guilt of Sam's death, had been on her shoulders from the moment the first walker bit him. Now, he was saying that it was all okay. Sebastian stepped back as Clary tightened her hold on Sam, determined not to let him go again.

"Cheyenne."

She turned when she heard her name, her real name, only to find a blonde woman standing there. It took her a second to form any words, but finally, she asked, "Mom?"

"Look at you," Camille said with a smile, stepping towards her. She took her face in her hands. "My baby girl's grown up."

Clary pulled away, stepping back as she said, "Don't touch me."

"Sweetheart," Camille said, resting her hands on Clary's cheeks.

"I said, 'Don't touch me!'" Clary barked, knocking her hands away. Everyone from Clary's group took a step forward, the Widmores placing a hand on each of Clary's arms in preparation to pull her away if the need arose.

"She said don't touch her, so don't fuckin' touch her," Sebastian snapped.

"And don't you dare call me 'sweetheart!'" Clary added. " _Only_ Daryl calls me that! You have no right to! You're not my mom. I never had a mom, not until I met these people."

"Cheyenne…"

"No. You didn't give enough shits to even name me. So don't go callin' me sweetheart. And you? You're the reason I can't have kids. Couldn't give up your damn drinkin' or smokin' for nine months. I used to not want kids. Now? I don't know. Maybe not in this world, the way it is now, but one day, it'll be better. It might not be fixed, but there'll be better walls. More land that's not overrun by the dead. And then, if I could, I would. I dreamed of a life where I was finally happy. But it was just that! A dream! I never wanted anythin', except for that! And I can't have it! Because of you!"

"Cheyenne, you have it wrong," Camille said. "I tried to quit. I did. But it was hard. I couldn't do it. I didn't think I'd actually have you. Daryl was so worried about you, honey, that entire time. He did so much for you before you were even born. I asked him if he wanted to name you. Daryl never told you?"

"Daryl never talks about you. All he ever told me was you smoked and drank, and you wouldn't give that up for the world. He just said he named me. That was it."

"You didn't know the whole story, honey," Camille said. Clary let her take her hands this time, but it was only because she was still trying to process her mother's words. "But now you do. So will you let me look at you?"

Clary held her head high, the same way she did when Negan looked her over. Camille smiled, squeezing her hands. "You've grown so much, Cheyenne. I've seen all you've done. I'm so proud of you, honey, and your brother. Daryl's grown into a wonderful man. He deserves so much and yet he takes so little. When you get him back, watch out for him."

"I already do, Mom," Clary said. "If there's one person I can always count on, without fail, it's Daryl."

"Hey, lil missy," Abraham said, resting a hand on Clary's back. "I think it's about time for you to be getting back to the world of the living. Tell Rosita and Sasha I said hi."

"You got it," Clary promised, stepping away from Camille. She gave everyone except her mother a hug, even Shane. She and Jesse exchanged their bitches one last time, Clary laughing when Jesse punched her arm after she jokingly squeezed his ass. Sam didn't want to let her go, but he knew he had to. "Goodbye, Sammy."

"Wait, Clary," Sam said as she started to pull away. "I know this is my last chance to say it, so, Cheyenne… I love you."

Clary gave him a small smile. "I know."

Glenn was the last one she made her way to, kissing her cheek. "Make sure Daryl knows it wasn't his fault, okay? Give Maggie a hug or kiss from me. And Clary?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

For the last time, Clary said, "I love you, too, Short Round."

* * *

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten," Rosita counted under her breath with each compression. "C'mon, Clary, c'mon. Breathe, please."

Clary suddenly gasped as Rosita leaned down again, her eyes opening as she struggled to breathe. The first person she saw was Rosita above her, and between her gasps for air, she managed, "Abe… says… hi."

One of the Saviors grabbed Rosita by her arm, dragging her back to the others. She didn't fight, instead trying to process Clary's words. Negan stepped over Clary, looking down at her. "I overestimated you, tiger. I thought you could do it. You got damn close." He knelt next to her, where she gasped for air on the ground. "Now, did we learn our lesson?" Clary nodded, unable to speak. "Are we going to kill one of my people again?" She shook her head. "Good girl. I think we're done here."

He got up, walking away after taking Lucille back from Aaron. His Saviors already had everything they were taking packed up and ready to go, just waiting for Negan to be ready. They left as soon as the gate opened, and the group broke from the line up they were in again. Eric ran to Clary first, Aaron lagging behind because he was still in pain. Eric gently gathered Clary in his arms, holding her close to his chest. Aaron knelt beside them, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Clary, sweetheart, are you hurt?" Aaron inquired.

"I just wanna go home," Clary whimpered. For the first time in probably her entire life, Clary truly sounded like a scared little kid. And it broke the hearts of everyone that heard her say it.

"Alright," Aaron said. "Alright. We'll go home."

Eric wasn't as strong as his boyfriend, but he still carried Clary back to their home. One of the Saviors that had came and retrieved the body of the man that Clary had killed was kind enough to clean up the blood in the bathroom. Aaron grabbed clothes for Clary from her room, while Eric stayed with her in the bathroom. Eric stood by the door, and he could see the rest of the group gathering in their living room, nervously waiting to know if Clary was alright. "Eric?" Clary asked as she took her clothes from Aaron. "Can you stay?"

"I'll be right outside the door," he told her, giving her a small smile before he closed the door.

Clary was in the shower for barely five minutes, and a few minutes later, she asked, "Hey, do you know how to braid?"

"French or Dutch?" Eric asked.

"French."

"Yeah, I can do that." The door opened, and Eric stepped inside. He sat on the edge of the bathtub, while Clary sat on the floor below him. "I used to braid my sister's hair."

"Glenn used to braid mine," Clary said softly, looking down at her hands as Eric started to braid her hair. "He was the only boy in his family, he had a couple sisters. He learned to do their hair for 'em. He liked to braid mine, even after I cut it."

"Oh, yeah. You used to have really long hair."

"Never cut it during all of this, until we got here. Glenn, when he was nervous about something and I was nearby, he'd just start playing with my hair. It calmed him, reminded him of before."

"I remember seeing him do that before," Eric said. "On the way to Alexandria, I could see you two in the RV, how he kept braiding and unbraiding your hair." Eric finished the braid, wrapping her hair tie around the end. "Alright, done."

Eric got up, then pulled Clary to her feet. "Thanks."

"No problem." He gestured towards the door with a nod of his head. "C'mon, the others are still downstairs."

Eric gently rested a hand on Clary's back, escorting her downstairs. Carl was on his feet as soon as he saw her, running to Clary and wrapping her in a hug so tight it felt like she was underground again. Even with the fresh memories of the soil crushing her running through her mind, she hugged him back. "I saw them," she whispered. "The people we lost. Your mom's so proud of you. And she thinks Judith's a beautiful name."

Carl gasped as the mention of his mother, and hugged her tighter, if at all possible. The rest of the group slowly filed out of the house after seeing she was okay, not wanting to crowd Clary. Carl was the only one that remained, along with Eric and Aaron. Eric gestured upstairs with a nod of his head to Aaron, leaving to clean Aaron up after the beating he received. They returned a few minutes later to see that Carl and Clary hadn't moved, Carl still holding her. Aaron placed a hand on Clary's back, asking her, "You okay?"

Clary whispered, "Gotta be."

"No, don't you dare give me that shit," Aaron said. "I want an honest answer."

"You wouldn't like it."

"I don't care. You're my daughter. I need to know." He and Eric shared a look. " _We_ need to know."

"No," Clary whispered as she broke down in Carl's arms.

Carl rubbed her back, telling her, "It's okay, I'm here. You're gonna be okay. I won't let 'em touch you, Clary. They won't ever hurt you again."

"They've gotta go through all of us," Eric added, placing a hand on her back above Aaron's. "And we'll put up a fight."

"We'll fight for you," Aaron promised. "We won't ever stop."

A series of knocks on the door sounded through the house, and Aaron stepped away, opening the door to reveal Rick on the other side. "I came to get Carl," Rick quietly told him, stepping inside. Rick paused when he saw his son with Clary. "Carl."

Carl didn't turn around at his father's voice. He questioned, "Time to go?"

"We're leaving for the Hilltop," Rick answered, walking over as Carl released Clary. Rick wrapped her in a one armed hug, kissing her temple. "We'll be back soon, Clary."

"No, I'm coming," Clary said, pulling away from him. "Lemme grab my jacket and bow. I'll meet you by the gate."

Rick and Carl shared a look before Carl nodded once. The two left together, and Eric looked down at Clary. "You sure?" he asked.

Clary nodded, running upstairs to grab her stuff. She quickly put on her jacket, zipping it up, and put her crossbow over her shoulder. She ran back downstairs, pausing only to say goodbye as she kissed the cheeks of both Aaron and Eric. She was heading out the door when Eric started to take a step forward, calling, "Love you!"

She didn't hear him, already long gone.


	29. The Kingdom

**Season 7:**

 **The Kingdom**

I search for Clary's room in the Kingdom for the night, passing a room where I can hear Shiva walking around. "Yeah, you were never free, were you?" I hear Clary question. "I know how that feels, Shiva. I know. When you're not caged, it's just an illusion of freedom."

I step in, freezing when I see Clary's hand through the bars of Shiva's cage. Then, I see Shiva nose Clary's hand before rubbing her head against it. She watches as Shiva rubs against her hand and arm, scent marking the hell out of her. "Fancy meeting you here," I say, and Clary turns at the sound of my voice. "She really likes you, marking you like that."

Shiva pulls away from Clary's hand, stepping towards me with a low growl. She positions herself in a way that she stands in front of Clary, eyes narrowing as she looks at me. "Shiva," Clary says, and the tiger turns at her name. "Settle down. Daryl's alright."

Shiva turns back to Clary, nudging her hand and waiting to be petted. Clary smiles softly down at her, then turns to me. She beckons me towards her, and Shiva opens her eyes when I approach. She must smell Clary on me, because she noses my hand through the bars. She lets me pet her for a moment before going back to Clary's hand. I ask, "Couldn't sleep?"

"You know me. I hardly sleep anymore," Clary replies. She sits on the floor in front of Shiva's cage, and I take a seat next to her. I raise my eyes at Clary, noticing that the shirt she's wearing isn't her own, but I don't say anything. Shiva lays down beside the bars, closing her eyes and falling asleep. I take Clary's hand, squeezing it to reassure myself she's still here. Clary glances over at me, asking, "You know I went back, right?"

"What? You mean to Alexandria?"

"No, not Alexandria," Clary says with a shake of her head. "To Woodbury. After Andrea."

"Yeah, of course I remember. Jesse…" I shake my head, not wanting to get on the topic of our dead friend. "Didn't you say it burnt to the ground?"

She nods. "Thought that if he came back, that's where he'd go. I was right and wrong at the same time. He only went to burn it. Then he found a new group, rallied a new militia. I didn't recognize anyone there. I didn't see Tara, not until after. But I recognized her right away."

"How'd you already know Tara?"

"When I went thirty-five miles out. Told her to look out for a man callin' himself the Governor. He musta used a different name, but still did the same thing. Took over a group, raised an army. It made me wonder what happened to the people that survived the Governor. You remember Martinez?"

"Yeah, the Governor's right hand man," I answer. "The same son of a bitch that held you down while his boss tortured you."

"Daryl, no, Martinez wasn't like that. He was different. I could feel it. What he did, he was just following orders. He didn't have another choice."

"Yeah, like Merle."

"No. Merle and Martinez, they weren't alike. They were both following orders, but Merle… he enjoyed it. Martinez, he tried to help me. He wasn't a bad guy. Just got stuck on the wrong side. He woulda done great things, if he joined us."

I look away, shaking my head. "After all this, you still can't accept that Merle was on our side."

"Daryl, please, I don't wanna get into this conversation," Clary pleads. "Please, kemosabe, look at me." I look down at her. "I don't want to do this. I don't wanna divide us, not after I just got you back."

"Okay," I agree, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Okay. We don't have to."

"Do you… do you ever wonder how different this would all be if we had left?" Clary questions. "That night on the road, before the farm… If I hadn't put up a fight, how much of this would've changed? Sophia wouldn't've been lost, Carl wouldn't've been shot. Maybe Shane wouldn't have fully lost it."

"Okay, the others I understand. But _Shane?_ "

"I told Rick, Daryl. He knows and he _still_ trusts me."

"You think it's your fault that Shane lost it," I say as it dawns on me. "Your refusal to work for him."

Clary wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek into my side. "I don't know, Daryl," she says softly. "I just don't know anymore." She tilts her head, looking up at me. "Hey, can I sleep next to you tonight?"

"You're really asking?" I question. I get to my feet, Clary following behind me. "C'mon. Let's get some sleep. We got a big day tomorrow."


	30. Spaghetti Dads

**Season 7:**

 **Spaghetti Dads**

Aaron was right about one thing, and it was that Eric was _not_ happy when he saw us after we returned from meeting Jadis and her junkyard people. He was even more unhappy when he found out that I was going to be leaving in the morning to go scavenging with Rick and Michonne.

"I really don't want you going out there," Eric says, watching me from my doorway as I pack for tomorrow morning. "You shouldn't go out scavenging anymore. You've risked so much already, risked yourself so many times. Clary, I don't want you to take a risk too far and never come home."

I put my bag down, turning to Eric and taking his hands. "Dad, if there's one thing I can promise you, it's that I _will_ come home. Whatever the cost, I'm coming home to you and Aaron. This is the first time that I've had a family, a _real_ family, and I ain't givin' that up for the whole goddamn world."

"Please, Cheyenne, please?"

"I don't want to," I tell him. "But I have to. So… can we just… just pretend this is a normal night? No impending doom, no danger around every corner? Just a girl and her dads?"

"C'mon," Eric says with a nod, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "We're having a Raleigh family tradition for dinner tonight."

"What's that?" I question, but I immediately know what it is as soon as I enter the kitchen. "Oh, hells yeah."

"Serious spaghetti?" Aaron offers, grinning as he turns away from the stove. "It was Eric's idea. It's almost done."

Together, we sit down for a family meal, but it doesn't feel right with the chair across me being empty. I try not to look at the place where Daryl sat too much, instead turning to Aaron and Eric. "You know," I saw, twirling spaghetti on my fork, "when Daryl and I ate with you, I told him this was where we belonged. I didn't know then what I know now. About how much I really belong here with my Spaghetti Dads."

Aaron and Eric share a look before they both smile, Aaron saying, "We are missing one, though."

"I know where Daryl is," I say. "He's safe. He just can't come home yet."

"We need to win this war fast, then."

"There's a like-minded community," I start to tell them. "We said we went scavenging, but we were actually meeting with their leader."

"Can we not talk about the war, just for one night?" Eric questions. "Please?"

"I, uh, I wasn't going to talk about the war," I say, and Aaron gestures for me to continue. "This community, it's called the Kingdom. There's some pretty cool people there."

"Who, their leader?" Aaron questions.

I immediately shake my head. "No, not King Ezekiel."

"'King'?"

"Yeah, I thought the same thing when Jesus told me. I tell you what, that Jerry guy, he's wild. But they're not… not what I meant. King Ezekiel has... a tiger."

"I'm sorry, what?" Eric asks.

"Her name's Shiva," I tell them. "He rescued her from the zoo. The dude's got a living, breathing _tiger._ She's awesome, and I'm not a cat person."

Aaron chuckles. "And here I thought it was gonna be about a human that was there."

"Oof, that's another story," I say, taking a sip of Eric's wine. " _But_ that is war talk. Let's just say I did something that I thought would work and it didn't. We'll leave it at that."

"I take it you didn't make the alliance," Aaron guesses.

"No. Ezekiel doesn't want to help us, but Benjamin does. I thought Ezekiel would listen to him. He didn't, but Ezekiel is keeping Daryl safe until the war's over, so that's what matters."

"Well, then I think we need to finish this thing fast," Eric says, glancing across the table at Aaron. "We are the Spaghetti Dads, after all, and we need both of our kids at home. When it's over, we'll make some serious spaghetti to celebrate."

* * *

Eric went to bed first, leaving Aaron and I curled up on the couch to finish the rest of an old western, _Shane_ _._ I'm about half asleep on Aaron's shoulder when the credits rolls, and he declares, "I think I'm gonna go to bed."

I try to answer, but I end up yawning, which is enough of a reply. I crawl off the couch, leaving Aaron to turn off the TV before he heads upstairs. I change into a pair of pajamas, pulling on one of the shirts I stole from Jesus. I look down at my bed, realizing that this is going to be my last night in Alexandria for a while. I don't want to leave Aaron and Eric just yet, so I leave my room to see if they're okay with me sleeping with them. Their door is open, and I knock on the doorframe, leaning in as I say, "Hey, I was wondering if I could sleep—oh my god, Aaron!"

"Clary?" he questions. "Oh, shit, I didn't want you to see this."

I grab his hand, pulling him out into the hall before he can put his shirt back on. Bruises cover his torso, centered mostly around his stomach and spine. Aaron winces as I lightly touch a bruise on his chest, and I immediately pull my hand back. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I can't believe they did this to you. They didn't even give you a chance to defend yourself."

"He said it wasn't about the note," Aaron murmurs.

"I should've killed him. I should've killed them both."

"No," Aaron rushes, shaking his head. "No, I told you to stay back because I knew you'd try to do exactly that. And they'd kill you for it. I told you, I would do _whatever_ , take whatever, as long as your heart keeps beating."

"No," I say, my voice breaking as I shake my head. "No. Don't you get it? It doesn't matter if my heart's still beating if yours isn't! That's the whole point! Stayin' alive for each other! Not heart still beating, _hearts_ still beating. You, me, Daryl, and Eric, till the end of the line, till the end of this war, till the end of _time_ _itself_."

There are tears in Aaron's eyes as he smiles, the sight somehow more sad than reassuring. Then, I realize it. He wasn't planning on making it out of this war alive, just like the rest of us. We're all thinking we're already dead.

Aaron tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, cupping my face as he looks at me like it's the last time he ever will. "I don't want you to go," he whispers, dropping his hands. "I know why, but… Cheyenne, please…"

"I have to," I reply. "I don't want to go, either, but you know I have to. I need to go get the guns so Jadis will fight alongside us. We need her and her people." I close my eyes, wrapping my arms around his waist. My voice breaks as I whisper, "I don't want to go, Dad."

"My god," Aaron breathes. "They broke you. Oh, what have they done to you?"

Aaron suddenly picks me up, holding me against his chest as he carries me into his room. He puts me down beside Eric, then lays down on my other side after pulling on a shirt. "You shouldn't go," Aaron murmurs. "You need to be here, in Alexandria. Clary, you're not _you_ anymore. You need to stay. You're going out there too much, for too long."

"But if I don't, people are gonna die!" I exclaim, accidentally waking Eric. "I can't…"

He lifts his head from his pillow, blinking. His voice is thick with sleep as he questions, "What's going on?"

"Cheyenne needs to stay," Aaron says, pushing himself up on his elbow. "She needs to stay here, with us."

"I need to go," I argue. "It can't just be Rick. We lead together, we make alliances together. And for this alliance, we need the guns."

"You've had a hell of a day," Eric says softly. "You're stressed, you're strung out. Why don't we just get some sleep and talk about this in the morning?"

"I don't know if I can," I say as Aaron lies back down beside me. He's asleep the moment his head hits the pillow, unable to stay awake any longer. "There's just… there's so much on my mind. It's like I'm out there again, too busy thinkin' 'bout what I need to do to live another day to rest."

"How often did you sleep when you were on the road?" Eric inquires.

"Cat naps. Half hour, here and there. I _can't_ sleep. When I close my eyes, it's all that I can see. Everyone I love that's died. The people that I love that are still alive dying—horribly, ugly, bloody." I sigh softly, looking up at the ceiling. "I guess I've always had trouble sleeping. I remember bein' real little, and I don't think either of us understood anythin' 'bout what Will kept doing to me. But Sammy, he knew I was hurtin'. All my life, I spent a lot of time at his house. Even that young, we were close, and Sam was just… determined, I guess. Determined to protect me, make me feel safe."

"He sounds like his brother," Eric remarks. I almost forgot that he knew Sebastian, too.

I nod. "Sammy was so sweet. That's why I loved him so much. I remember this one time, I don't think we were more than eight, and I climbed in his window in the middle of the night, runnin' from my place. He always kept it unlocked, so I could get in. I think I was crying. I was so scared. Sammy woke up when I came in, and he didn't even question it. He just held up his blankets, and I crawled in bed with him. He wrapped his arms around me, told me I'd be okay, and he sang. It was something his mom sang to him. Put me right to sleep."

Eric runs his fingers through my hair, and I lean into his touch. Eric hums softly, and as ridiculous as I think it might be, I still ask, "Will you sing?"

"You got it," Eric says, nodding. "As long as you sleep."

I nod, and Eric smiles softly.

" _There is a pattern  
_ _It's starting over again  
_ _And once you see it,  
_ _That means you've come to the end._

 _Flip the board, I don't want to play no more.  
_ _Flip the board, I don't want to play_

 _Another moment.  
_ _Another casualty.  
_ _Another heartbreak.  
_ _Another broken strategy._

 _Flip the board, I don't want to play no more.  
_ _Flip the board, I don't want to play no more._

 _And the world's the same, it's the game that's changed.  
_ _For just trading a life, you get an hour of fame.  
_ _And you feel so small, but they know your name.  
_ _And for that blink of an eye, you can get to be king._

 _Another picture.  
_ _Another moment in time.  
_ _Another word that rips your heart out through the back of your spine._

 _Flip the board I don't want to play no more.  
_ _Flip the board I don't want to play_

 _And it is glorified, analyzed, shared out to the masses  
_ _But mostly to our horror it's personified by children_

 _Flip the board I don't want to play no more.  
_ _Flip the board I don't want to play no more._

 _And the world's the same, it's the game that's changed.  
_ _For just trading a life, you get an hour of fame.  
_ _And you feel so small, but they say and they say and they say your name.  
_ _And for the blink of an eye, you are finally king."_

* * *

I wake between Aaron and Eric, both of them with their arms wrapped around me. It's early, so I wasn't expecting them to be up yet. I glance at the clock on the wall, finding that I'm supposed to leave with Rick and Michonne in thirty minutes. Shit, I wanted to be up half an hour ago. I need to get up, but I don't want to wake either of them. Aaron moans softly in his sleep, nuzzling the back of my head. Eric's grip tightens when I try to wiggle free without waking them.

I'm probably gonna be a bit late meeting with Rick and Michonne.

Fifteen minutes pass, and then Eric's blinking his way awake. Eric, unlike Aaron, is a morning person, and is usually up at the asscrack of dawn. "You're still here," Eric observes.

"Still got a bit 'fore I gotta go," I tell him. "Plus, I can't get up without waking either of you."

"Sorry," Eric apologizes. "Wait. Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?"

"I thought about it," I answer honestly. "But I couldn't. So I've been waiting for you two to wake up."

I turn to lay on my back, and Aaron turns onto his stomach, his nose in my neck. "Don't go," he murmurs, and I know he's awake, too. "Chey, please." His hand finds mine, threading our fingers together. "Chey, baby, please don't go."

"I don't want to," I say with a sigh. "But there's no other choice." I look down at Aaron. "Will you let me get up?"

Aaron reluctantly rolls off of me, letting me up. I meet them downstairs, wrapping Aaron in a hug after I put my stuff down by the door. "I'll be back soon," I promise.

"And you better be in one piece," Aaron says.

"I will." I close my eyes as Aaron kisses the top of my head. "I love you."

"Love you, too," Aaron murmurs, releasing me as Eric walks over to us.

He pulls me against him, murmuring, "Stay safe out there, okay?"

I nod. "That song you sang last night, I've never heard it. Who is it by?"

"I, uh, I wrote it," Eric admits.

I pull back, looking up at him. "Really?" He nods. "I really like it. Write another one until I come back, okay?"

"You got it," Eric says, leaning back to look down at me. "You better come home."

"I will," I promise. "Love you."

"Love you, too, but I still think this is a bad idea."

"I know," I say. "But I swear, I'll come home."


	31. Letters

**Season 7:**

 **Letters**

"Clary?" Aaron said softly, knocking on the girl's door. It was almost noon, and Clary still hadn't come downstairs. Both Aaron and Eric figured that she was catching up on the sleep she didn't have while out on the run with Rick and Michonne. "Hey, sleepyhead, we're making lunch. Any special requests?"

A minute passed, and there was no answer.

"Clary?" he repeated. "Cheyenne?"

If there was one thing that Aaron knew for sure, it was that Clary wasn't a heavy sleeper. If a pin dropped, she'd be awake at the sound of it. And that's why he was so worried when she didn't answer him.

Aaron steadied his breathing, keeping a hand on his knife as he opened the door. He was prepared for the worst, but praying to every god he could think of that he wouldn't find a walker in place of his daughter. He breathed a sigh of relief when the room was empty, but his worry flared again when he realized the room was empty.

Aaron stepped inside, and a paper on the desk caught his eye. He picked up the page on top, quickly reading it. He turned towards the open door, shouting, "Eric!"

* * *

Eric rounded up Michonne, Rick, and Carl as Aaron hunted for Tara, bringing the group of survivors back to their house. Carl was the most hesitant to come, worried about what Clary would say when she saw him in her home. Somehow, he became even more worried when he saw that she wasn't there.

The four all piled onto the couch, while Aaron and Eric stood in front of them. "Aaron? Eric?" Rick questioned. "What's going on? Did something happen?"

"I think you should read these," Aaron said, passing the letters out. He also handed Judith's to Rick, trusting that the leader would give it to his daughter when she was older. The four all looked at each other as they unfolded their letters.

Carl let out a gasp as he read his.

 _Carl,_

 _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm dead, and I'm sorry._

 _I'm so sorry that we fought. I'm so sorry that we never really made up. I'm so sorry that we never will._

 _We might've broken up, but that doesn't mean that I don't care about you. I care, more than you probably know._

 _I never considered a future with anyone until I met you. You know I can't have kids, but I used to dream of what ours would look and be like. I used to dream of a future with you. I used to say, "I want to die before I'm old, but because of you I'm thinking twice." You were the first person I ever wanted to grow old with._

 _And then I wondered, maybe we're too different._

 _I used to dream of being with you, but shit does happen. That doesn't change the fact that you were my first everything, though. Except for kiss—that was Sebastian. You were the first person I loved as more than a friend, and that scared me so damn much at first. It still scares me because I'm terrified of Negan hurting you to get to me._

 _I can't let him hurt the people I care about. I still care about you, Cowboy, even though it's over between us._

 _I'm going out again, like I went 35 miles out. I can't let anyone join me. I can't have another Jesse. But this time, I won't hesitate like I hesitated with the Governor. I can't afford a risk like that, keeping Negan alive._

 _I'm gonna kill him, and I won't miss._

 _I'm never coming home, Carl._

 _Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon_

 _P.S. I still remember when you called me Mrs. Grimes._

As Michonne read hers, she breathed, "No."

 _Michonne,_

 _When we first met, you asked my why I had to fight the world. I replied, "All the world's ever done is fight me."_

 _Now, it's fighting me more than ever. But you know me. You knock me down, I get the fuck back up again. And when I get back up, you know I'm swinging. The world's knocking me back, so I'm fighting with everything I've got. I'm fighting with my life for the lives of the people I care about._

 _You and I, we've been through a lot of shit together. Neither of us gave up. So I'm gonna hold it to you to keep that up. Fight for me, for all of us, Michonne. So we can be the ones who live._

 _And I want to thank you, too. It was you that made me realize that I'm more than a protector, more than a soldier following Rick's commands. You made me realize I'm a part of the group, and an important one, too. You've saved my life countless times. You taught me how to use a sword. You've always taken care of me._

 _You're one of the people I care most about in this world. You're one of the people I'm willing to die for to keep safe. That's why I'm going after Negan._

 _Love you, 'chonne._

 _Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon_

Tara said, "Shit."

 _Tara,_

 _If I hadn't made that deal, none of this would've happened. I'm so sorry. All of it is my fault. Glenn, Abraham, Olivia. Denise._

 _Denise's death is on my hands, and I'm so sorry for it. I should've told her no, that she couldn't come. So many people you love have died because of me. I don't expect you to ever forgive me, and that's okay._

 _Tara, I knew you before the Governor, and I knew you after. I don't know if you remember me, but that was me that shot open your dad's truck with Jesse. I told you to keep your eyes open 'cause he killed my brother. You told me that if anything would happen to your sister, you'd want revenge. Look, I still don't know why you forgave me for your sister. I'm not so forgiving when it comes to my brother. I'm gonna kill Negan for what he did to Daryl. I know I'm not gonna make it out. I don't even know if I'll be able to kill Negan before they kill me. But no matter what, this war will still happen._

 _I've noticed that you wear a seashell bracelet on your wrist. You weren't wearing it when you left for the run. I thought you just found it out there. I believed that, until I noticed that whenever we ask if you know of another group, you play with it. It's a nervous thing you do, but I know you're lying. You're a bad liar._

 _Tara, if you know of any group at all that can help us, now's the time to tell Rick. It's time for us to rise up. We need all the help we can get. I won't be around anymore to lead the battle. Rick needs help. We need help. I need you to ask them for their help._

 _Please, Tara, help them. For a dead girl._

 _Clary Dixon_

Rick said nothing as he read his.

 _Rick,_

 _You know how you always said I'd get myself killed because I can't stand by? Well, turns out you were actually right about me for once._

 _I left Aaron and Eric a series of letters to give to leaders of other communities, our friends, and my family. If I fail, die, and the fight comes, keep my dads out of it. You understand? I don't give a shit what you have to do, but keep Aaron and Eric Raleigh alive for their dead daughter. It's my dying wish._

 _Rick, I've begged Ezekiel for his help. I've begged Tara to let us know if there's a community that she's been keeping from us. I left to beg Carol to rejoin the fight._

 _I'm desperate, so I'm going after Negan myself or with Carol, depending on if she joins us again or not. I'm going to try to kill him, and I don't expect to make it back._

 _If I die, this is going to leave you in charge of Alexandria again. Lead the revolution without me, okay? You better do a good job of it. And make sure Negan's dead._

 _Your mercenary,_

 _Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon_

 _P.S. The letter for Judith, will you give it to her when she's older? Or at least read it to her when she's old enough to understand? Just make sure she gets it, okay? So she knows who I am. I guess it's "was" now, huh?_

Rick unfolded Judith's, murmuring, "Of course, Clary."

 _Judith,_

 _Hey, kiddo. You probably don't remember me, but that's okay. You were only one when I died. I asked your dad to keep this letter until you were old enough to understand it, and if you're reading it or hearing it, then it means years have passed._

 _You probably know my name and that I loved your brother, but that's probably about it. Carl's probably moved on by now. It didn't end all that well between us, but I cared about the Grimes family until I died. The others, they probably don't talk about me much. We've always had a tendency to not talk about the dead. So here it goes._

 _From the moment I found out you were born, I've been risking my life to protect you. I swore to some people that I'd protect you until my final breath. I guess I've given mine, since you've got this letter now._

 _I wanted to protect you from Negan, a bad, bad man that killed some people that were real important to me. I wanted to build a new world for you, and I've tried to. Then, we met Negan's people, the Saviors. The war started, and I died before it ended, probably at the hands of Negan._

 _Listen, kid, I know that with the people you're growing up around, you're gonna kick ass and take names, just like I did. You're gonna blow 'em all away. Someday, you will._

 _I once hoped I'd live to see that day, but I know I won't. That's okay, though. You just gotta make sure they all see when you blow 'em all away._

 _Someday, kiddo. Someday._

 _Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon_

Slowly, they all looked up from their letters. Rick refolded both his and Judith's and tucked them in his jacket pocket. Carl's eye watered, and he quickly wiped it. Michonne had a lost look in her eyes, and Tara wouldn't meet anyone's gaze. "There are others," Eric said softly. "For Maggie, Carol, Daryl. Jesus. People named Ezekiel and Benjamin."

"She's really gone, then?" Carl whispered. "I… I never said sorry."

* * *

The shock came the following morning when they arrived at the Hilltop, greeted by a face they all thought they would never see again. Rick barely had the RV in park before Eric tore out of it, sprinting across the Hilltop to wrap Clary in a hug. Aaron wasn't far behind him, somehow more pissed at her stunt than relieved that she was alive. "We thought you were already dead," Eric told her, his voice shaking. "We thought you were gone."

"I almost was," Clary admitted.

Eric took a step back, knowing that Aaron would be right behind him. _Well, he's not happy_ , Clary thought to herself upon seeing his face. He glared at her for a moment more before his face softened, finally feeling the relief that she was there. He took a step forward, but Carl cut him off as he pushed around him. Carl wrapped his arms around his ex-girlfriend with a sob. "They gave me your letter," Carl whimpered.

"That letter was a mistake," Clary said, not returning his hug. "I shouldn't have written it."

"Clary, please. We thought you were already dead. Even if we're over, you're still family. I don't want to lose you."

"I'm here," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm alive."

In the time that Clary was assuring others that she was alive, the others followed Carl out of the RV. "You know, Clary, when you said _I_ have to stay alive, the agreement went both ways," Rick said. " _You_ have to stay alive, too."

"Why do you think I came back?" Clary questioned. "I have to live to lead."

"So, I take it you want us to get rid of these letters?" Aaron inquired, pulling the remaining letters out from his jacket pocket. "I gave Carl, Rick, Michonne, and Tara theirs. Rick has Judith's. We all thought you were already dead."

"Give me Benjamin's," Clary rushed in a single breath. Aaron flipped through them, saying the names of each person he comes across. _Carol, Maggie, Daryl, Jesus, Ezekiel, Benjamin._ Finally, he extended the one for Benjamin. Clary didn't miss Carl's frown as she quickly took it, tucking it in the inner pocket in her jacket.

"And the others?" Aaron questioned.

"Wait," Jesus suddenly said. "You wrote one for me? Is it… is it okay if I read it?"

Aaron looked to Clary, and she gave him a nod. He handed Jesus's letter to him, still watching Clary. "Clary? You didn't say what you wanted me to do with the others."

"Burn 'em," Clary told him, but she was only half paying attention. Instead, she watched Jesus as he read the letter she only meant for him to see after she was dead.

 _Paul,_

 _If you're reading this, then I broke my promise to you. I went after Negan. I didn't make it home._

 _I didn't know you all that long, but what you said to me about being there, it's true. Paul, you were there when I needed you more than once. You're a good man, and there aren't many of those left in this world._

 _Different people have saved me in different ways, but you're something else, Paul Rovia. These people, they just kept me alive. But you? You made me want to live, even after what happened that night at the Hilltop. That's why I love you so much._

 _But this is something I have to do. I don't expect to succeed, and I know I'm not going to make it home. I had no other choice. Know that, Jesus. Know that this wasn't a suicide but an attempt to save our people. All in this together, right?_

 _I knew I was going to die, so I've put everything in order. I've instructed Aaron and Eric to deliver letters to you, to Maggie, and to others. They're going to give you ones for King Ezekiel and Benjamin. I need you to get their letters to them._

 _I was planning on leading the rebellion, not lighting the flame. I knew I was going to need a right hand man, and I was going to ask you. So if I somehow make it out but don't kill Negan, if we still go to war, will you do it? Will you be my right hand man?_

 _Forever and forever, your poppet,_

 _Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon_

 _P.S. My bike is yours. I named it Jesse, after him._

Jesus closed his eyes as he refolded the letter, tucking it in his vest pocket. "Paul?"

He looked up at the sound of his name, then engulfed Clary in a hug so tight she briefly wondered if she would actually suffocate. Jesus clung to her as she wrapped her arms around him, closing her eyes and burying her face in his shoulder. "Damn you, Clary Dixon," Jesus murmured. "Damn you."

"Love you, too, Suburbia," she returned.

"I can't remember a time before I met you," Jesus whispered. "I don't want a time after you."

"Relax, it's okay," Clary assured him. "I ain't goin' nowhere."

It took a bit of coaxing before Jesus finally released Clary, and even then he didn't leave her side. Aaron found himself thinking that it was like having a second Daryl around, only this one was more in touch with his emotions and didn't communicate in a series of caveman grunts.

"Aaron said my name," Daryl said after a moment. He didn't have to voice his request. It was made clear by his tone.

"Trust me, Daryl, you don't want to read it," Clary said.

"You let the Bearded Wonder read his," Daryl pointed out. Aaron looked expectantly at Clary, and she gave him permission with a wave of her hand.

 _Daryl,_

 _If Aaron and Eric have given you this letter, it means I didn't make it. I'm sorry. I went after Negan. Yeah, I know. It was a stupid thing to do. I don't know the result, if I killed him or not. But I do know that if I didn't make it back to rip this letter to shreds, then I was killed. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

 _Daryl, I had no other choice. This was the only way for me to make sure you're safe without risking everyone else. That's why I'm doing this. I have to kill Negan so we all can be safe. And I have to avenge Glenn._

 _I love you, big brother, and I don't tell you it enough. What I have to say to you, well, that can go without saying. You already know it. But I'm gonna say it anyway._

 _You raised me, taught me right from wrong. You taught me that loyalty is the most important thing. Well, I'm loyal to you above everyone else. That's why I'm so willing to die for you and your safety._

 _I'm really sorry that I got myself killed. I know what it's doing to you. You promised to protect me all those years ago, promised to keep me safe. You said you'd die to keep me safe. In the end, I was the one that died._

 _I love you, Daryl. Our bond is thick. Our stories are one. We're the same, but yet, we're so different. We're two sides of the same coin. Everything that I want to say cannot be expressed on a piece of paper. The love we have is unconditional, it's a feeling that I could never explain in words._

 _I don't want to live forever, Daryl. If you're not alive, I don't want to be, either. If I don't do this and they kill you, I won't be able to go on._

 _Thank you, Daryl, for saving me so many times. Thank you for agape._

 _Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon_

"You're right," Daryl said after a moment. "I really didn't want to read that."

"I tried to tell you," Clary said softly, taking the remaining letters from Aaron. She looked around for a place to burn them, catching sight of a metal drum. The Hilltop lit fires inside of them during the night to light the pathways, and there was still a fire burning in one from the night before. Jesus followed by her side as she walked over to it, tossing each of the letters in, one by one.

Carol's was first.

 _Carol,_

 _So, if they gave this to you, it's because I'm dead. I didn't survive my mission to kill Negan. Please, don't blame yourself. I don't. You didn't want to come. I get it. This isn't on you._

 _Carol, I'm so sorry for all that I've done. Except for what I did to Ed that one time. I still think I should've taken it farther, damn the consequences. But that bastard got what was coming to him. Daryl told me what you did after that night at the Atlanta camp._

 _You're a strong woman, Carol. It's always been there, even if you didn't show it. You're smart and you're quick, but you're not careless. You think things through._

 _Me? Yeah, I don't think things through. I've always been shoot first, ask questions later. You? You shoot and ask at the same time._

 _When I first met you, that night of the bombings, I honestly didn't think much of you. I didn't think any of your family would survive. Shit, Carol, ignore that part. I should never have put that. I'm so sorry._

 _I'm still so sorry about her._

 _I still blame myself._

 _Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon_

Then, she burned Maggie's.

 _Maggie,_

 _You're strong, one of the strongest people I know. That's why I know you can go on. That why I know you'll be the leader the Hilltop both needs and deserves._

 _When I first met Glenn, he saved my life and then I saved his. I thought I'd never see my brothers again, and Glenn was there, and I started to care about what happened to him. That's why we were always so close. We were determined to protect each other. Glenn was willing to die for me, while I was willing to kill for him._

 _I was going to kill Dwight in the woods, but I knew none of us would have gotten out of there alive. So I threw away my shot in the hope that he'd get out alive._

 _And for a while, he was._

 _But I couldn't protect him from Negan. And I'm so sorry._

 _In his dying moments, I promised Glenn that I would avenge him, no matter what it took. And I've done my best, but I might not have succeeded. So you lead the Hilltop, and you get them to join Alexandria if I die while trying to kill Negan._

 _And hey, name your kid after me?_

 _Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon_

Finally, she burned Ezekiel's.

 _King Ezekiel,_

 _If I had any other choice, I would be asking you this in person. The reason I'm not is because I'm dead. I went after Negan, and I didn't make it back. I've asked that this letter be delivered to you in case I die while trying to kill Negan, and he comes out alive._

 _Please, Ezekiel, I'm begging you. If I was there in front of you, I would be on my knees at your feet. I don't kneel, and I don't beg. That's how desperate I am. We are in so much trouble that I have no other choice._

 _You have knights, Ezekiel. You have the numbers, skill, and weapons we need. But above all, we need your help. Listen to what Benjamin's saying. Don't let my death be in vain. Help us. Please!_

 _Alexandria's late leader,_

 _Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon_

As she watched the paper go up in flames, there was one that she didn't burn. Instead, she kept it inside her jacket where it would be safe. She took Jesus's hand, whispering, "I can't do it. I can't burn Benjamin's."

 _Benjamin,_

 _I know, surprise, surprise. I actually know your name. I've always known it, but I liked picking on you. It was fun to see you get riled up at all the different names I could come up with. Bitchamin is still my favorite._

 _Benjamin, you really are something else. I know I never apologized for leaving while you were still sleeping, but I didn't want anyone to know that we hooked up. Sorry that I left, but I'm not sorry we slept together. You're a really good guy, Benjamin._

 _You offered to help us. We need everyone we can get, so thank you. There will always be a place for you with us. When our ranks begin to form, will you take your place with us? I can only hope that when you do, you're leading the Kingdom into this war. You'll be bringing the Kingdom with you, guns-a-blazing._

 _Thing is, I won't be there to see you lead._

 _I'm going after Negan because I can't stand around anymore. I have to do something, even if that something will get me killed. I've begged Ezekiel for his help, and I'm begging you, too. You have the King's ear. He'll listen to you._

 _I just need you to convince him to join. I need you to give him a reason to go to war._

 _The short but punch packing leader,_

 _Clary Dixon_

She didn't want to say goodbye just yet.


	32. Changing Sides

**Season 7:**

 **Changing Sides**

"Hey, hey, wait!" I shout, running for the gate as I see Dwight start to leave. He stops, and I put my hands on the car to brace myself when I stop. Dwight rolls down his window, and I lean down, saying, "D, I gotta talk to you."

"What is it?" he questions.

"It might take a while. You got a few minutes?"

"Yeah," Dwight says, nodding. I motion for Tobin to close the gate as Dwight climbs out of the car, leaning back against it. He takes a cigarette out of a pack, searching his pockets before sighing. "You got a light?"

"You got one for me?" I return, pulling out my lighter. I light his cigarette, then take one and light it. "Ugh, I said I was quitting. Eric's gonna give me hell, but it'll be worth it. I'm just gonna blame it on stress."

Dwight smirks. "I think you've got a good enough excuse," he says, following me as I walk away from the gate. "What'd you want to talk about?"

"D, how well do you know the other Saviors? Not on a personal level, I mean. Where they're stationed and shit?"

"Pretty well, I guess. I was one of Negan's top guys, so I know more than others."

I take a drag on my cigarette, glancing down at the glowing embers before looking back up at Dwight. "I don't know if I should tell you this, 'cause I still don't really know if you're with us. I wanna think you are, but I got no fuckin' clue. There's this other community the Saviors deal with. It's called the Kingdom. What do you know about the Saviors that meet with 'em?"

"Not a whole lot," Dwight says. "I know their top guy, Gavin. He's one of Negan's lieutenants, like me. I know that there's been some tension between the Saviors and the Kingdom 'cause of this guy, Richard."

"Yeah, the Governor lookin' fucker."

"Governor?" Dwight questions.

"He's right behind Negan in terms of bad guys. He was, anyway." I suddenly can't meet Dwight's eyes, instead looking down. "He killed my brother, Merle. Killed one of my best friends, Jesse. I don't like to talk about him."

"Okay," Dwight says, nodding. "I'm not making you talk about him." If it hadn't been for all that he's done, I think I'd like the guy. He knows my boundaries and limits, and he respects them. I'm starting to think he just got stuck on the wrong side, like the Governor's man, Martinez. "I heard some chatter on the radios. Gavin was telling Negan about this meeting that went south."

"What went down?" I question, knowing the exact meeting he's talking about.

"They were going to kill one of the people from the Kingdom. Richard was supposed to be the one that died. That's what Gavin said, that he was the first on the chopping block. But the Savior that did it, he's hotheaded. Can't follow directions, apparently. So he shot someone else."

"He shot and killed my friend," I say. "He killed Benjamin. I was holding his hand…"

"Gavin sounded pissed," Dwight offers. "I didn't think he was going to let him keep going with them, but they did when they went back for the rest of the tribute."

"The tribute?"

"Twelve cantaloupes, total. There were only eleven."

"You mean to tell me that son of a bitch killed Ben over a fucking _cantaloupe?!"_

Dwight sighs. "I'm sorry. Gavin said they 'had to learn.' Like I said, there were problems recently. Altercations. And then someone from the Kingdom killed Richard because Richard was trying to get himself killed. To get the Kingdom to fight, I think. He got your friend killed instead."

"Who killed Richard? I need to give them a high-five."

"Morgan, I think his name is?"

"Morgan's getting two high-fives for finally abandoning that 'all life is precious' shit."

"You know him?" Dwight inquires.

"He's a part of this place, or used to be," I tell him as I put the butt of my cigarette out with the toe of my boot. "The Savior, who is he?"

"Uh, his name's Jared," Dwight tells me. "That's all I know about him. I'm sorry. I never met him, just knew about him."

"It's good enough," I say. "I'll get the other information one way or another."

Dwight raises an eyebrow. "You mean you'll torture them?"

"Well, I learned a couple things when it was done to me," I say. "All I needed is a name. So thank you, Dwight. You better go, get back to the Sanctuary."

Dwight holds out a hand. We shake, grasping each other's forearm in a symbol of allegiance. "I want you to know something in case you're still doubting me," Dwight says. "My wife and I, we owed our lives to your brother. That's why I couldn't kill you in the woods. And that's why I'm here now. I still owe a lot to you two, I do. Sherry helped Daryl escape, and then she got out, too. She was the _only_ reason I worked for Negan, so she would be safe. Now, she's free. So I'm done following Negan, too."

I question, "So, whose side are you on now?"

Dwight bends the knee for me, just like he used to kneel for Negan. "I follow you."


	33. Spaghetti Dads: Part 2

**So... I meant to upload this last week, but high school and band are both things.**

* * *

 **Season 7:**

 **Spaghetti Dads: Part 2**

Aaron and I look at the door from where we sit on the couch when there's a knock, Eric trying to see out the window from where he stands in the kitchen, looking for something to make for dinner. "I got it," I volunteer, knowing at once who it is.

I get to my feet, smiling at who I knew would be standing on the other side of the door as I open it. Eric, from where his head is in the pantry, calls, "Who is it?"

I gesture to him to enter with a nod of my head, Aaron getting to his feet when my brother steps inside. "Daryl," Aaron says.

"Hi," Daryl says, reaching for my hand. I offer it, and he squeezes it tightly. "I, uh… Clary said you took her in. That she lives here now."

"There's an empty room upstairs," Aaron says. "It's right next to your sister's."

I tug Daryl further inside, the door closing behind him. "Welcome to the family, big brother. The family of Spaghetti Dads and dirty, feral children."

"Thank you, Clary!" Eric suddenly says. "I know what we're having tonight!"

"We're having fish tonight?" I question in an Australian accent.

Eric leans out of the pantry, looking at me for a moment before saying, "A Raleigh family tradition."

I immediately grin, giving Eric a thumbs up. "Just so you two know," Daryl says, "I'm not calling you 'Dad.' We're too close in age."

"That's fine by me," Aaron says. "It was a bit of a shock the first time Clary did."

Eric starts, "And then in the woods with—"

"Let's not talk about that," I say before I pull Daryl upstairs with me. I take him to the room Aaron mentioned, closing the door behind us. I lean against it, shaking my head as I whisper, "I still can't believe you're back."

"It doesn't feel real. I thought I'd be trapped with them forever."

"Daryl, what I said to you that night… that's not something I can take back. I _never_ should've said it." My voice cracks, and then I'm crying as I slide down the wall to the floor, my knees to my chest. "You can't even begin to know how sorry I am."

Daryl drops his bag to the floor, then his crossbow, before taking a seat against the wall beside me. "There was some truth to it," he says sadly. "If I hadn't punched him, Abraham would've been the only one to die. Then he said he was going to kill someone else, and I thought it would be me. I mean, I hoped like hell he wouldn't, 'cause I can't leave you, but I didn't want someone else to die for what I did."

"That's the way, ain't it?" I question, leaning my head against his shoulder. "You try to sacrifice yourself, but someone else dies. Like Richard. He tried to die for the Kingdom, but he got Benjamin killed."

"It was Richard's fault?" Daryl asks, looking down at me.

"I talked to Dwight," I admit. "Asked him what he knew. He gave me a name. Jared. That's all I got, but it's enough. I'll find him, sooner or later. When I do, I'm gonna kill him slow. Painful."

I pull away from him for just a moment, long enough to lay down with my head in his lap. Daryl's fingers immediately go to my hair, twisting and toying. "Darry?" I ask.

"Hmm?" he questions. Daryl rests his free hand on my stomach over the spot where my own arrow pierced me, his hand warm and gentle. I almost forgot what it felt like. I wrap my hand around his, squeezing it.

"Carl asked me earlier if I loved Benjamin," I tell him. "I said I didn't know, but… now I don't know if that was the right answer."

"Did you?" Daryl inquires, looking down at me.

"It wasn't like it was with Carl," I say. "With him, it was slow. It was childish, almost, but we did love each other. With Benjamin, it was... electric. Lively, exciting. Can't keep your hands off each other type thing. Maybe it was nothing but a thrill. Maybe it was the whole 'end of everything' prospect. It's the end of the world, everyone should be gettin' their rocks off."

"Oh, Clary, overshare," Daryl says, wrinkling his nose.

"Mature, Daryl. _Real_ mature."

"You're my sister. I don't want to hear about my sister's sex life." Daryl glances at the door as if someone's listening. "Between you and me, Merle pretty much scarred me with his, uh, well, you know."

"Ugh," I groan. "Alright, point taken. My god." I shake my head, sighing. "Alright, big brother. It's your turn. Got anything you want to overshare?"

Daryl pauses for a moment before saying, "Maggie forgives me."

"And she should—"

"No!" Daryl exclaims, his voice nearly breaking. "No! Don't you get it? Every person she's ever loved has died 'cause of me!"

I sit up, turning to look at my brother. Then, I pull my shirt aside as he can see the tattoo he marked me with. "Daryl," I say. "What does the J stand for?"

"Jesse," he says after a moment.

"And how did Jesse die?"

"He was bit. Shot."

"He was shot 'cause I had to go to Woodbury. 'Cause I didn't kill the Governor when I had a chance. And then he came back, and he killed Hershel. If any of us are responsible, it's me. I got her dad killed. I made Beth stay behind to take care of Carol because I wasn't ready to lose her. And Glenn? Maybe Dwight's men woulda kept his word. Maybe if I had killed Dwight, they never would've taken us. But I threw away my shot, so I got shot and I got Glenn killed because he was there that night."

"Maybe we're both at fault," Daryl says after a moment, staring up at the ceiling. "I don't think Maggie should've forgave me, no matters whose fault it was. In the cold light of day, I punched Negan, Negan killed Glenn. Actions with a consequence."

"God, this is depressing," I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Let's make a rule. You know, the Winchester boys do it best: no more chick flick moments."

"No more chick flick moments," Daryl echoes, shaking my hand. "So, I take it you know what the Spaghetti Dads are making?"

"You hungry?" I question.

"Starving."

"C'mon," I tell him, getting to my feet. I lead the way downstairs, Aaron and Eric grinning when they see us. "The Raleigh family tradition almost ready?"

"Just finishing up," Eric answers.

"C'mon," I whisper to Daryl, nudging his arm with my shoulder. "It's some pretty serious spaghetti."

Daryl smiles at my echoing of Aaron's words. Within a few minutes, the four of us are sitting at the table with plates of spaghetti. I glance at Aaron and Eric as Daryl slurps a noodle, all of us trying not to laugh. Daryl slurps another noodle. "Wow," I say. "Four months, and literally _nothing_ has changed when it comes to your table manners."

Daryl pauses mid-slurp to glare at me, and the sight causes the rest of us to laugh. "I don't deserve this," Daryl says, shaking his head. "What did I do to you, huh?"

"You're my brother," I return, grinning. "It's what we do."


	34. Time

**Season 8:**

 **Time**

I lean my back against a tree, watching Clary and Aaron. My sister keeps her arms wrapped tightly around her father, her forehead pressed against his shoulder. Aaron drapes his arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head.

I turn away from them when I hear a baby crying.

Rick emerges from the outpost, a baby in his arms. Tobin inquires, "She was inside?"

"She was," Rick confirms, stopping beside Tobin. "I have a stop to make, and Daryl's got his bike. Maybe she can go back with you or Scott."

"She can go with me," Aaron volunteers, pushing himself up off the hood of his car. Clary follows him, sticking right beside him. She takes his hand, pressing herself to his side. He looks down at her, and she nods once. Aaron turns back to Rick. "We can take her to the Hilltop. She's be safe there."

Rick steps closer to them, softly saying, "Aaron, are you sure?"

"Eric, Clary, and I were gonna go up," Aaron tells him. "We were gonna go there after and update Maggie, so… it's what Clary and I are gonna do." Rick pauses, and Aaron's voice breaks as he whispers, "Please. I… I have to."

Rick nods, passing the baby to Aaron. He tells him, "Her name's Gracie."

Rick and Tobin leave, and I turn to follow but not before pausing. Aaron takes Gracie, stepping back as I start towards Clary. I wrap my baby sister in a hug, tucking her head under my chin.

Clary doesn't reciprocate my embrace, whispering, "Please, don't. Please don't touch me, Daryl."

"I'm sorry," I murmur. "We'll make 'em pay."

"'Cause we got nothin' to lose."

Clary pulls herself from my embrace, bowing her head as she returns to Aaron's side, gently stroking Gracie's hair. "Daryl," Rick calls.

I turn away from my blood family and my adopted family, turning back to my brother in arms. I meet back up with Rick as Tobin goes to his car, heading back to Alexandria.

"I'm worried," I say, glancing over my shoulder at Clary and Aaron as they get in their car. "All of it, for nothing."

"This isn't over yet," Rick says, resting his hands on his hips as I turn back to him after watching Aaron drive away with the two children under his care. "The fight's still going on, and it's not just me that's been leading it."

"The hell you saying?" I demand.

"You know what I'm saying," Rick replies. "I don't want to do it, but I don't have any other choice. I need Clary still leading this. People listen to her. I know that she can get a lot more people to like her and kill for her than I can. I need her."

"She just lost her father!" I exclaim.

"The fight doesn't just stop because people have died!"

"It might not, but it is for her. She's _mourning_ her father _._ "

"There'll be time to mourn after. There will be. But there isn't now."

"Rick—"

"Negan still hasn't been defeated," Rick interrupts. "It won't be over until he is. There won't be time to mourn until after it's over."


	35. Vilomah

**Season 8:**

 **Vilomah**

Siddiq was walking towards Barrington to check on some of the wounded from the previous night's battle, but he stopped in his tracks when he spotted the person sitting on the front steps.

Clary Dixon. Or Raleigh. Siddiq wasn't really sure which, as her brother was a Dixon, but that same brother had also told him how Clary was adopted by Aaron and Eric Raleigh after they met Negan. Daryl had also warned him not to mention Eric, and to be careful with Aaron as her remaining father had taken off and left her in Hilltop.

Daryl hadn't just warned him about Eric. He had advised against Siddiq interacting with Clary at all. "She holds you responsible," Daryl had told him.

"I _am_ responsible," Siddiq had replied.

"I know," Daryl said. "And that's why the rest of us won't be able to stop her if she snaps."

Clary didn't seem to have noticed him. She remained sitting on the steps, eyes still on the Saviors being held prisoner in the pen. Siddiq took a breath, braving himself to face her for the moment it would take to step past. He walked up the steps, quietly excusing himself as he stepped around her. Siddiq had just made it to the top of the stairs when he heard Clary say, "Siddiq."

He hesitantly turned, pausing for a moment before he asked, "Yes?"

"Will you sit? With me?"

Clary looked like she was trying to figure out why exactly she had just asked that. Siddiq wondered for a moment himself before he nodded and sat down next to her. Clary rubbed her shoulder, and Siddiq asked, "Were you hurt last night?"

"I was shot about a month ago," Clary replies. "It passed clean through and it's long since healed, but it still hurts every now and then." Clary ran a hand through her hair, sighing. "Christ, it's been a month. It's only been a month, and we've lost so much." Clary glanced at Siddiq. "The rest of us, I should say. 'Cause you're not one of us. You never will be."

Siddiq knew that. He knew that there would be some that would never accept him, but he wouldn't let it get to him. He was here now, and he wasn't going anywhere.

Clary paused for a moment before she looked over at him. "How many walkers have you killed?"

"Two hundred forty-five, give or take," Siddiq answered. "Your three questions, right? Carl asked me them."

Clary nodded once. "How many people have you killed?"

"One," Siddiq answered, then answered the third question before she could ask it. "The dead tried to kill him, but didn't."

"A mercy kill," Clary translated, and Siddiq dipped his head in affirmation. "That was my first kill, too. A mercy kill. I didn't even know her, but she was bitten. She asked me to. I had seen what happens. It was in the early days, before anyone really knew what was going on. She wasn't strong enough to do it herself, so I ended it for her."

"How many walkers have you killed?" Siddiq questioned. "Sorry, I know those are questions for new people, but—"

"Four hundred twenty-seven," Clary answered. Siddiq's mouth hung open, cut off in the middle of his sentence, as he stared at her. Clary looked at him out of the corner of her eye, adding, "Give or take." Siddiq let out a soft laugh. "I don't know how many walkers. I don't know how many people, either."

"You don't count?" Siddiq asked. It was an honest question—he wasn't accusing her of being so cold that she didn't care how many people she killed. He was just genuinely surprised that she didn't count. Siddiq, when he first met her, saw how the weight of the amount of people she's killed hung on her shoulders.

"It was fifty-three," Clary said, "as of the day Eric died. I stopped counting when I lost my dad."

"I'm sorry. Is that… is that why they call you the Orphan?"

"My birth parents, the ones I shared with Daryl and Merle, are dead. There was no love lost there. Daryl was the one that raised me, after all. When Negan took Daryl, Eric and Aaron took me in. They're my dads and, as far as I'm concerned, my real parents. Negan found out they adopted me, and he started calling me the Orphan. Like he thought I gave a shit about Will and Camille Dixon. I never knew my mother, and Will has always been the reason I've been cold to the world." Clary glanced down, shaking her head. "I lied. I'm not as cold as I say I am; I feel it all. I told Ezekiel once that I had to stop counting, or else it would kill me. And now it kills me that I've stopped. This world changes people."

"I don't think it does," Siddiq admitted.

"Damn, are you blind or just straight up stupid? How can you look around at all these people and think this world _hasn't_ changed them?"

"That's not what I meant," Siddiq countered. "Of course this world has an affect on people. You know, you kill things that were once human and watch the humans get killed by those things. That affects people, but it doesn't _change_ them. This world… it brings out what was hidden inside people before everything went bad. Whether it's something bad—" Siddiq nodded towards the Saviors, and then looked down at Clary. "—or something good."

When Clary realized he was looking down at her, she questioned, "What the hell do you know about me?"

"I don't know much," Siddiq said, "but from what I've seen and what little I know about Will Dixon, I know that you're a survivor. What you went through, you lived through it. You survived it. And now, you fight to survive in this world. You fight and you survive for all the people you care about that are here right now. And you fight because they care about you, too."

Clary didn't reply right away, instead turning to stare out into the dark Hilltop. She spotted Carol down by the infirmary, saying, "There's words like orphans, widows." Clary looked over at Siddiq. "What do you call someone that's lost their child?"

"There's a Chinese saying, that the grey haired should not bury the black haired. You shouldn't have to bury a child. That it's against the natural order." Siddiq paused, looking away. "Aaron shouldn't have to bury his daughter."

"I've lost everything. I don't know how much more I can take, and I think I'm already at my breaking point. I don't want to live, Siddiq. I've tried to get Negan to kill me so _many times_ , but he just _refuses._ No matter what I do, I just can't seem to die. And I'm terrified of dying, but I so much more terrified of becoming Negan. And that's the only way to stop it. The only way for me to not become Negan is for me to die."

"What if we stop it by killing Negan?" Siddiq proposed.

"They're _all_ Negan." Clary closed her eyes, shaking her head. "I had my bad day." Clary opened her eyes, staring down the path. Siddiq thought that she was just staring off into space, but Clary was seeing the boy she loved standing there. Carl's ghost stood in the path, watching her, forever a reminder of the dreaded day Negan was so insistent upon her having. "I had my bad day." Clary suddenly stood. "I gotta go find Jesus."

Clary's back was to Siddiq, not seeing his smirk as he quipped, "I thought you were an atheist."

Clary let out a short chuckle. "You know, I don't really think it matters if there's a God anymore. Doesn't matter who you believe in. Every religion has a concept of an afterlife, of a Hell. Here we are, livin' in it. As the walking dead."

"Are you saying we're dead?"

"We're all the same, us and the dead. The dead and the people they leave behind."

"'Do not send us astray after them,'" Siddiq recited. "That comes from a prayer for the dead."

"So pray for us, Siddiq," Clary said, turning to look back at him. "Pray for the dead, pray for those still walking. Pray so that the orphans and the widows and... and the vilomahs are not sent astray after those who left us."


End file.
